


Petals for a SOUL

by Zenobia1



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, But he's not too good with children, But mostly angst, Dadster, Depressed Papyrus, Everyone Is Alive, Flowey wants a soul, Fluff and Angst, Frisk is the victim, Frisk needs help, Gaster tries to help, Gen, Magic exertion, Medical Examination, Oops, Or emotions for that matter, Papyrus is a victim too, Post-True Route, Sick Frisk, Sick Sans, Whump, Yeah it got out of hand, sick papyrus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25509109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenobia1/pseuds/Zenobia1
Summary: In which Flowey attempts to claims another SOUL, Frisk is the first victim. Papyrus is depressed and too nice for his own good, Gaster is overprotective and makes things worse, Sans has to deal with the fallout and another reset is out of the question.A lot of whump, hurt and comfort with the family.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to angstville. Enjoy the journey. 20% discount on confectionery but unfortunately we've ran out of ham sandwiches :(

Just over a year since the barrier was broken for the…

_How many times now?_

Time had been reset at least 23 times now. Whether for better, or for _worse_. But eventually Frisk always became bored and started again.

The last time, though, many of her friends were getting a sense of De Ja Vu. Even Papyrus had grown increasingly aware and went through a period of significant anxiety over what he assumed was nothing. His ‘career’, or the possibility of it, at the royal guard was becoming rocky, his upbeat personality turning more and more withdrawn as the resets drew on.

Frisk was too afraid to reset again, what would happen to Papyrus? What if he gets worse? She had made the mistake of flat out admitting to Sans she had been resetting time through the power of her determination, in hopes to shed some light on Papyrus’ nervous attitude.

Unfortunately (or not) for her, Sans had grown paranoid and almost angry with her, as if it were her fault Papyrus felt like this.

Well…it was. But who was she to know. So that didn’t make it entirely her fault…right?

Admittedly, the tense situation made her want to resort to resetting again. It was like a habit, an addiction she had to get out of.

So when she found herself awakening in the bleak dark pits of the underground again, she wanted to scream.

Scream because she had managed to hold off the urge to reset for a _year._ Scream because this was no doubt going to upset Papyrus and Sans again. Scream because she didn’t even cause the reset in the first place.

_I don’t want to go through this again._

_I don’t want to relive the entire year again._

_I don’t want to even look at them again._

_I’ve ruined everything._

Amidst her dark thoughts, she almost didn’t notice the faint tugging at her ankles. It was delicate, at first she had to do a double-take. Was it her mind? Maybe she was finally going crazy too.

Maybe all of this was her punishment.

_“Helloooo?”_

Frisk blinked, glancing down at her feet and noticing the vine of a flower tugging at her trouser leg.

Ah.

“Golly, you’ve been staring at the wall for ten minutes! What’s the matter?”

_Isn’t it obvious?_

“You should know,” Frisk spat, yanking her leg back, the vine shrivelling away back into the ground, “I didn’t do it this time.”

The Flower craned it’s neck, looking visibly confused for a second, “What?” it had been a constant companion through all her resets.

She narrowed her eyes, “It must’ve been you, right? We were happy!” Who else knew about resets, had the ability control the timeline before she did? “Everything was going fine. Even you were happy! You were treated like family! Was that not enough?”

It was a perfect timeline too!…Well, _almost_. She still couldn’t find a way to give Flowey his Asriel form back yet, but Gaster was back from the void, so that was good, right? And yet, this didn’t seem to be enough for the small flower.

Flowey’s eyes shrunk into tiny dots, before quickly growing back to their normal size, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Frisk hardened her stare, “The _last reset?_ Did you forget? Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Family?” it asked instead, vines reappearing from the roots of the ground and twisting around aimlessly.

“Yes, I managed to convince mom to keep you in our house. Seriously, how can you forget that?”

Strangely, the expression on the Flower’s face proved the apparent theory that it had no recollection of the last timeline. Frisk sighed. It was such a good one too.

“Maybe it was an accident, sorry, I shouldn’t have instantly blamed it on you,” she observed the vines growing longer, rustling through the leaves, but Flowey’s face remained impassive.

“Sounds nice. If it were true.”

“Of course it’s true. I lived in it.”

There was a low giggle, and Frisk’s eyes instinctively darted over to Flowey’s expression, which was now contorting into a distorted wide grin. _Oh no._

“I know.” Abruptly, the long vines that had been slowly accumulating swept off the floor, whipping through the air and swiftly catching Frisk into a chokehold. Thick vines tightly wrapped around her neck, cutting her legs and prickling the skin on her lips. She tried to gasp, stopped by the pressure of the vines.

“You think I was happy?” the Flower snarled, curling the vines tighter into Frisk’s body, causing a squeal from agony, but mostly shock. Flowey had been a friend! For over a year! Flashes of memories quickly surfaced, happy memories of not so long ago; taking Flowey on road trips with mom, into school for a day, into parks and even managed to fit in a holiday far away from Mt Ebott.

 _I thought I saved you,_ Frisk wanted to say, but couldn’t. She tried to wriggle a wrist free.

“When you were resetting over and over again, that was okay,” Flowey began, his voice sounding more demonic as the seconds ticked on, “It was different. It was actually _different._ You were messing around so much, things were changing! I mean, poor old Papyrus was depressed, and you pissed off the smiley trashbag!” the Flower laughed, the sound echoing throughout the underground chamber.

“But then you stopped.”

Frisk was only paying half attention, having successfully wriggled a trapped wrist free of a vine, she tried to mentally prepare herself for how she was going to escape this. The vines were _everywhere._

“You stopped, and the days were _dragging._ And I was stuck there, as a Flower, useless. I was so bored.”

_So that’s why everything reset._

_Maybe…maybe the timelines changed so much, Flowey regained the ability to reset too?_

_Maybe he became so bored he was determined to reset?_

_Nah, that sounds stu—_

She was rudely interrupted from her thoughts as another prickly vine whacked around the wrist escapee, causing her to yelp as broken skin started to sting.

“You’ve had your fun. Please, can I have mine?”

Frisk noticed her own breathing getting faster and faster, quicker and quicker, racing in and out her nose as her body began to go into overdrive, panicking.

“Please? I let you have yours. Now I want to be with a soul again. Who knows, maybe I’ll be such an emotional cry-baby again I’ll give your soul back to you!”

_Take my soul?_

_So you can’t kill me, then._

_You know that._

“Anyway, I can’t just kill you,”

_Well done. So what’s the catch?_

“So I guess I’ll have to just let a part of _me_ manifest inside _you_ instead until you’re weak enough to take over.”

_There it is._

“You’ll still be trapped here,” she tried to say, but came out more as a jumble of words, which wasn’t taken well by the flower as the vines tightened around her jaw, effectively wiring it shut. She couldn’t do it anymore. She whimpered.

The Flower hummed to himself, in thought, as if the entire situation were casual, “I’ll be stuck in your body though. I haven’t a clue how that’s gonna work! To be honest, I didn’t think I’d get this far…hmm…”

Frisk struggled again, knowing it was pointless but still wanted to show she was determined.

“Oh well. I guess I could…hmmm…” Flowey continued to think out his thoughts, which was not ideal considering Frisk could figure out a way to stop him. Why not just think to yourself and make your evil scheme a big surprise? Or maybe he just liked showing off.

“I guess I could do what I did last time. If I had loads of souls, I could transform back. But then your body would be gone forever.”

It snarled, then groused demonically.

_“Oh well,”_

A vine blissfully lifted that had been embedded deep into her left arm, bringing a second of much needed relief… before it slammed into her back, ripping through her body and causing her legs to buckle, screaming.

Her vision swam, the edges bleeding with darkness and creeping closer to the centre. She gasped, blinking rapidly, trying to keep herself awake, trying to breathe, but it wasn’t working. The world grew dimmer and dimmer, the quietness and rustle of leaves and twisting of vines morphing into a high pitched static as she slowly lost her grip on the world.

So, this was it then. This _was_ her punishment. She was finally dying to that damned flower.

A scarlet light shone vibrantly from the edges of her vision, blending beautifully into the specs of blood already dotting her vision.

 _Determination,_ Frisk’s mind managed to piece together, _My soul._

She vaguely registered a green vine racing directly towards her. The world went dark.

**…**

Cold

Cold

It’s so cold

Cold

Cold

_I’m cold._

Frisk’s breath hitched in her throat.

_In._

_Out._

_In._

_Out._

She shuddered.

_Cold._

Her eyes snapped open, fully expecting to be greeted with the muddy thick rocks of the ruins ceiling, but instead, snowy white trees circled around her.

It was just then she became aware of her fingers and toes tingling from the bitter cold she was submerged in. Slowly, her brain made the connection.

_Snowdin._

_How…_ she craned her heavy head to the side, her vision swimming as a dull throbbing in her chest made itself known. _How did I get out of the ruins?_

Bracing herself, Frisk turned onto her side, causing various cuts and bruises to flare up. She hissed, clenching her jaw, small fingers digging painfully into the snow.

If there was one thing for certain, it was that this timeline was completely different to all the others she had experienced. She had somehow managed to skip the entirety of the ruins, missed Toriel, ended up in Snowdin and Sans wasn’t even there to greet her, and neither was Papyrus.

Perhaps she finally broke the loop. Flowey would be really pleased.

Flowey…

_Flowey…_

_My soul!_

_No!_

All at once, everything came back to her.

_I’ll have to just let a part of me manifest inside you instead until you’re weak enough to take over._

Eyes growing wide, Frisk lurched to her feet, yelping at the pain in her chest and doubling over. An arm hastily wrapped around a tree before she could hit the ground, squeezing it tightly and waiting for the pain to fade. The colour drained from her face as she struggled to breathe, agony radiating from her soul with each inhale.

 _Stop being an idiot! Stop being so pathetic!_ She chastised herself, _I need to warn Sans, need to warn everyone…_

Granted, at this particular moment Sans would have never seen her before in his life, this would be a weird thing to turn up on his doorstep about.

But if the other timelines were anything to go by, he was probably already sensing that something was off, and Frisk would just be confirming it.

Either way, she _had_ to get to him.

And she couldn’t do that with an arm draped around this tree.

In one great breath, she used the tree to haul herself upright, the world spinning as it begged for her to lie down on the snow again.

The skelebros house of course was not too far away, although from her point of view it seemed like miles.

Sluggishly, with one shaky foot after the other, she staggered onwards crunching through the snow, leaving footprints beneath her soggy boots. The heaviness of the snow certainly didn’t help matters, every step exerting what little energy she had left.

Frisk tried to ignore the odd glances and stares from the other monsters. Some of them quickly looked away, some seemingly trying to talk to her. Their mouths moved but the only sound she could hear, and had been hearing, was static. It was just then she realised the trail of crimson red left behind her, melting in with the snow and possibly scaring the other monsters. No wonder they stared.

A quaint house came into view, and Frisk exhaled what felt like the last of her remaining breath in relief. Golden light from the warmth inside bled through the windows and shone onto the pastel white.

Frisk abruptly stopped as she approached the doorstep. _How the hell…am I going to…explain…this?_ She thought to herself, hesitating to knock.

Surely the worried looks from the other villagers and the blatant trail of blood on the floor was going to raise alarms. If anything, Sans would probably think she was a threat and finish her off.

Her vision flashed white, as if a warning from her body to do something and do something _fast._

_Oh what the heck…if I still out here any longer I’ll die anyway._

_And then Flowey will take over…_

She snorted.

_Heh, nah._

She knocked. And waited. But her vision was melding with the snow, and soon the golden light was gone and was replaced with pure flashing white and black.

Frisk grit her teeth, wrapping a numb arm around her waist and forcefully banging on the door again.

Seconds later, her knees buckled, and she fell forward into the wooden door.

Luckily or not, she was too numb to feel the impact on her face.

As another wave of pain hit her chest and her screaming soul, she pounded on the door again, head pressed against the wood, trying _so hard_ to stay awake.

It was no use, though. Regardless of whether the door opened in ten seconds or ten minutes, her body gave out, all the breath leaving her chest as she collapsed in a heap onto the snow.

**...**

Comfy sofa. Comfy living room.

Comfy tray of crisps drizzled with ketchup.

Papyrus had turned his nose up at the cuisine delight Sans made and told him it belonged in a bin, set alight and thrown into a sewer stream.

Not necessarily in that order.

Toriel had looked at him in mild disgust but hid it well. Agreeing to live under the same roof definitely came with it's perks, and the ketchup crisps was one of them. For him, anyway.

But it sure beat talking to Toriel through a huge door outside the ruins.

Sans exhaled in satisfaction, munching on some salted crisps and grinning in delight at the various side glances he received.

Or at least, he was grinning until the door sounded like it was about to be burst down.

Heavy, rapid-fire knocks on the front wooden door made him jump out his chair. Papyrus was upstairs, and Toriel looked to be dozing off, somehow unphased by the noise, so he stood up, sighing.

“i’ll get it,” he announced half-heartedly, plonking down the plate of crisps and heading for the door.

Before he even got a foot out the room, the knocking returned, quickly followed by impatient hammering.

“im coming, im coming!” he growled, his strides growing larger across the beige floor, “jeez!”

The knocking continued, until suddenly there was a loud _bang,_ then silence.

Sans narrowed his eye sockets, “if they've broken the door, i swear...” he muttered under his breath, swinging the door open.

He was going to greet the impatient guest with a stern telling off and the importance of patience, but in front of him stood absolutely nothing.

Sans clenched his jaw. “those god damn pranksters again. giving me a run for my money,” he announced, hoping they could hear him, “they're lucky im too tired to use my--"

He stopped, glancing down at the striped heap submerged into the snow.

Eyes widening in shock, he panicked, “oh, shit. no _no no no_ ,” he murmured, leaning down towards the unconscious child, “papyrus!” he shouted for his brother, hoping he could hear him.

He scooped the child up; the sooner she was out of the cold the better. Eyes that were on the brink of panic analysed the various injuries Frisk had sustained. Deep lacerations spread throughout her body, from her legs to her face. But most worryingly of all, the deep red oozing through the cotton of her striped blue shirt.

Mercifully, moments later, both Papyrus and Toriel came out the house to see what the fuss was about. Sans audibly heard the mother creature gasp from behind him.

“Is that..?” Toriel trod closer, apprehensive, “Frisk...? What...”

There wasn’t time for this. “papyrus can you carry em to the sofa inside, and tori, call alphys.”

_the hell happened here?_

Papyrus quickly jogged up behind them, opening his arms out for Sans to roll Frisk into. There was a soft moan of pain as she was jostled around. She was cradled like a new born baby. Except much bigger and by the looks of things; on the brink of falling down.

Rushing inside the warm embrace of the house, he carefully lay Frisk on the couch while Toriel rushed to phone Alphys. Sans watched from a distance, unable to do anything.

Papyrus sat in front of the child, having less of an idea of what to do than most but wanted to do _something._ So he began to clean and bandage the wounds with the hefty supply of bandages he had lying around.

“Hello, Dr Alphys, it’s Miss Toriel,” the former queen spoke politely on the phone, “Yes, I am thank you, but I am afraid we have a situation at our house.”

She was apparently darned good at keeping her cool. After a few moments, she hurried into the kitchen away from them for some inexplicable reason.

“Sans,” Papyrus ushered from the couch, catching the older brother's attention. “Frisk is...shaking? Is that normal for humans?”

With a quick turn and a hard stare, Sans stepped over beside them and knelt down.

Frisk’s arms were twitching and shaking, a sheen layer of sweat glistening on her skin despite the bandages.

“hmm,” Sans pondered, _i wonder..._

Taking Frisk's wrist in his hand, he felt for the thrumming of a heartbeat. It was there of course, rapid and powerfully pulsing.

So, that narrowed it down to either an illness or a panic attack. Preferably neither.

“What are you doing?” Papyrus was intrigued, he had never seen such an action before.

“checking her pulse.”

“...What’s that?”

Sans snorted half-heartedly, “you can tell a lot about a human's state by their pulse,” he explained, not releasing his grip in half a worry of the pulsing suddenly stopping. “sometimes when they’re very sick, it goes fast.”

Papyrus glanced over to Frisk, “But what if they don’t have a pulse? They're not sick?”

_heh._

“means they’ve...moved on.”

“Oh,” Papyrus took his own wrist and attempted to copy the movement, “I don’t have one, is that bad?”

“no,” Sans sighed, his eyes trailing over the injuries and making a mental note to do something about them soon, “we're skeletons, pap, we don’t have pulses.”

Papyrus brightened up slightly, “Oh yes! I completely forgot about that!”

_maybe this sort of knowledge should be mandatory now we're mixing with humans._

But the shaking continued for much longer than Sans anticipated, so eventually he tried to intervene.

Half expecting her to wake up and attack him, Sans shook her gently on the shoulder, “c’mon kiddo, wakey wakey.”

Still nothing.

“kid,” he stated more firmly, frowning when there wasn’t a response. He let his guard down and grabbed her arm, “ _frisk_ —”

All at once, hands flew out in front of him, flailing, trying to push him back. Frantic eyes analysed the room as if she’d just been kidnapped.

“Oh dear!” Papyrus gently nudged Sans out the way, probably cautious about his exclusively 1 health point. “Human…Frisk, you are safe. You are in my house, Toriel is here and so is Sans.”

Disbelieving eyes landed on him, then eventually on Sans. She lifted her hands up, gazing at them hesitantly as if expecting them to still look as if they had been dunked in blood.

But Papyrus had done a good job at cleaning them; in fact, a lot of her wounds had been nicely cleaned and dressed. He really liked being of use, for once.

Frisk dropped her arms and blinked at him, tiredly. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? It’s no trouble for us!” Wordlessly, Papyrus pulled her in for a hug, leaving Sans to sigh, exasperated. At least Pap felt needed.

They were still sharing an embrace in silence when Toriel returned, finished with the call to Alphys.

“heya tori,” Sans appreciated the distraction from the awkward hugging in front of him, “is alph coming?”

“She should be,” Toriel slid the phone back in the pocket of her robes, “How is the child?” she glanced down at Frisk; the sighting in front of her should be all the confirmation she needs.

“fine, i think, but uh…” Sans narrowed his eye sockets, gesturing towards the lump in Papyrus’s arms. “started shaking, hasn’t stopped.”

“Oh dear,” Toriel’s features relaxed, and she knelt down beside them as Papyrus pulled away from the embrace. A soft orange light radiated from the motherly figure’s hands, running over Frisk’s battered body. “My magic should help.”

Frisk instinctively knelt into the touch, probably a soothing feeling garnered from the healing magic.

The tension in her face eased, supposedly it brought at least some relief from whatever pain she was in.

But the shaking still hadn’t stopped.

_not good._

Frisk’s eyes opened, searching around the room and finally landing on him, fear hidden in them.

_definitely not good…hmm._

“so, what are you sorry for?”

Papyrus nearly shouted, “Sans!”

“what? just curious.”

“She is only sorry for the fact we had to look after her, but that’s no problem, is it, brother?”

Frisk was watching Sans closely, akin to something of a staring contest under Papyrus’ arm, something hidden in the glassy brown eyes.

“nah.”

“See?” Papyrus gently whacked Frisk on the shoulder, making her jump, “There is nothing to be sorry for! That’s what friends are for!”

Frisk went rigid, her head gazed up to the lanky figure above. A small voice whispered, “Friends?”

“Why Yes!” a hand clapped her on the back a little too hard, “Why wouldn’t we be?”

_hmm._

Sans began to piece things together at that.

Or at least there was a vague theory on Frisk's weird behaviour.

Perhaps getting her alone with him will give some answers. It was risky but if anything, it was in her best interests.

“hey pap, tori, can i talk to the kid alone for a sec?” he waited for the child's reaction and sure enough, terror dominated her features. Papyrus didn’t notice the expression and nonchalantly inched away to stand up.

“Of course! Call me when you need me!” he gave Frisk an encouraging pat on the head and strolled out. Toriel lingered behind for a moment, before offering a smile to Frisk and following suit.

Which left Sans and Frisk alone in the room together. The fear etched into her face really pulled at his heartstrings, but he continued.

“alright, kid, no need to keep up the act--"

“I’m sorry!” she abruptly blurted out, shuffling back as if to avoid an attack. Sans narrowed his eyes, taken aback, “I’m sorry I didn’t know it would happen, I swear I don't know I had nothing to do with it and-"

“stop. breathe. I have no idea what you're on about.”

“What do you mean?! I reset! Why aren't you angry?”

The lights in Sans’ eyes shrunk to pinpricks. There was no reset lately. Right? It had been at least a year...

“there's not been a reset, at least I don’t think so. i hope not.”

“But Flo--...I thought it did?”

“nope. nothing’s changed. or I wouldn’t remember ya, let alone my bro,” he offered a half-smile in the hope that it was somewhat comforting, “most the others are on the surface. that’s why alph is taking a while to get down here.”

Frisk looked to be on verge of tears, shaking her head. “I thought...I don’t know what's real anymore.”

“hey, it’s ok,” Sans sighed, gesturing her to come closer, “was that what you were so... _shaken_ up about?”

She nodded sadly, small hands scrunching up into fists, “I guess so...”

“so how'd you get so banged up?” he pressed, side-glancing the bandages that were already starting to come off.

Frisk squirmed uncomfortably, clearly keeping something secret from him. Which must have been something big because she always talks to him about everything.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” she says instead, picking at the bandage unravelling on her arm, “Sorry.”

“mmm,” there was inner conflict inside Sans, debating whether or not he should push her further, “y’know if someone were to hurt you, i’d have something to say about it.”

“I know, it’s just…” she sighs, closing her eyes in dismissal, “I just don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

_never even talked about it in the first place, but ok._

“welp, if that’s what you want.” There was absolutely no way he was going to let this slide, “just let me know if you want me to do something about it, ok?” he was definitely going to do something about it.

At that, Frisk’s eyes brightened a little, clearly appreciating him backing off the subject. “Yeah, I will, thanks.”

Fortunately for Frisk, the front door opened and a dishevelled Alphys came sauntering through, having finally arrived from the surface to the beginning of the underground. Papyrus came in shortly after, probably having gone to find her himself. “She’s here!”

“Sorry! Sorry!” Alphys quickly shuffled over, dropping a grey bag beside them both. She knelt down and started taking out the kit, “I would’ve arrived sooner, but I missed the boatman! Or…well I didn’t miss them, but I sent them the wrong way, and then I got off I was too embarrassed to say anything, so I walked instead…”

“That’s amazing! I bet you saw all the sights!” Papyrus exclaimed, being ever the optimist.

Sans snorted; Alphys was really one hell of a creature. It was still funny, though.

“doesn’t matter, she’s mostly fine anyway.” Sans felt Frisk nudge his side.

“M-Mostly…?” Alphys acquired a plastic object and adeptly inserted it into Frisk’s ear. She cringed, shrinking back and sulking.

“pap cleaned up most of the injuries, but she was shaking for a while. well, worse than this anyway,” it was just then he noticed Frisk’s trembling was still there, just not as bad as before.

Alphys pulled back the device and analysed the results, “Oh, jeez…you’re very cold,” she glanced up to Papyrus, who was fidgeting and seemed to be desperate to do something productive, “Um…Papyrus, can you get a blanket?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice, “Of course!”

“This…this is why I really think the rest of you really need to get back to the surface…there’s no-one h-here…to…help, you know?”

It was true, everyone had moved up to the surface now and that leaves very little help down in the underground.

Actually, there was no-one.

But Sans was very attached to this house and the small village, and despite everyone being free, he really didn’t want to move.

And well, Papyrus was his brother, and they could never be separated. Toriel and Frisk both lived with them since the Ruins was so dastardly.

However, that left the four of them open to grievous injury and the only person that knew their way to Snowdin from the surface quick enough was Alphys.

Of course…there was also… _him…_ but Frisk was rather scared of him.

_i guess if there was ever an emergency between me and pap, G could always come running._

Running…

_heh. what an image._

“W-well, it seems the main problem is just her temperature. J-just keep her warm, and that will fix itself. Though…” Alphys brought the device closer, scrutinizing the screen.

“It looks like there’s something here, but I-I’m pretty sure it’s j-just a glitch. This thing is supposed to be for monsters anyway, haha,” her eyes lingered over the readout for a few more seconds before tucking it away in the bag again.

Papyrus reappeared after that, with…

_oh boy._

“I have returned with the blankets!” he announced, draping them over Frisk’s body.

All _seven_ of them.

This was no problem for Frisk though, her eyes sparkled with delight as she cocooned herself in warm blankets.

“thanks, pap,” Sans leaned back against the wall, finally able to relax since there was apparently no immediate danger anymore.

All they needed to do was keep Frisk warm. Right.

_this isn’t gonna be so hard._

As it turned out, those were famous last words.


	2. Chapter 2 - Determined...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suspicions arise that something is up with Frisk. She's determined not to let it show. That doesn't work well with a certain father.

**_A/N: Just to warn everyone, this is where it gets really angsty. Also includes one or two swears. Also, the sleeping part took inspiration from my childhood, so I know how frustrated 'parents' (or loved ones) get when kids act up for seemingly no reason. I wanted to make it real like that and not just happy times. I love angst anyways LOL. Enjoy!_ **

* * *

_“_ _thanks, pap,” Sans leaned back against the wall, finally able to relax since there was apparently no immediate danger anymore._

_All they needed to do was keep Frisk warm. Right._

_this isn’t gonna be so hard._

_As it turned out, those were famous last words._

**…**

This soon rang true, because not long after Frisk was sent to bed, the persistent sobbing started. None of them in the house could get any sleep amongst the shouting, raged crying happening in the room opposite, and no-one knew how to get her to calm down.

They tried everything, from medicine to cuddles to healing magic. But it wouldn't _stop._

It was getting damn near frustrating.

But she was still a child, and they had to try.

So, for the third time that night, Papyrus left his visually astounding red racing car bed and went to Frisk’s room.

Papyrus found Frisk on the floor when he came in, puffy eyes red and mouth quivering from a crying fit for some unidentifiable reason, but there was once again no immediate danger. And she hasn’t even _slept_ to have a nightmare. So why was she doing this?

He knelt down in front of her, meeting her eye, “Frisk...please, what is the matter? I know you’re upset, but we don’t know why, and we can’t sleep!”

Frisk instead shrugged, her gaze dropping to the floor. Despite the amount of times they had walked in to check on her, she would never explain why she was either crying or throwing things around her bedroom.

Papyrus sighed. This was going to be a long night.

“Okay human, to bed with you, nyeheh,” he helped the young child to stand, patting on their bed.

Reluctantly, Frisk tiptoed to bed, tucking herself under the covers and seeming mildly irritated going by the scowl on her little face.

As Papyrus trod back into the room, Sans was waiting in the doorway. “she say anything?”

“Nope! Same as last time...!”

“great. welp, i’ll wait here for the next shout.”

**...**

Sure enough, seven and a half minutes later, the meaningless shouting returned.

_this is ridiculous._

Before Frisk could get a chance to throw something at a wall again, Sans barged into her room and took a deep breath. Leaning against the wall, he forced himself to remain level-headed.

_steady._

“alright. look. im trying to sleep, pap is trying to sleep, tori is trying to sleep. can you shut your trap for the rest of the small amount of time left tonight? thanks bud.”

Frisk's face contorted with offended tears before crawling back to bed.

Sans left.

Six minutes later, it happened again.

He pointed at the bed.

“sleep.”

Frisk sulked back into bed.

Four minutes later, it was Papyrus's turn.

“Would you like to try sleeping on my floor?” he had offered, “You can bring all your blankets and have a sleepover!”

Papyrus’s room was even closer to Sans’ than Frisk's, so when she started crying again, Sans wasn’t happy. In the end, she was sent to Toriel's room. She was a heavy sleeper and slept through it all; it was the two brothers that were cursed to hear her whining.

“if I hear one more peep out of you,” Sans had said, his voice drained of emotion from sheer exhaustion, “you're gonna have a bad time.”

The expression on her face was priceless, so that lifted his spirits and then some when the noise finally stopped.

In fact, the room had become so abnormally quiet that the skeletons both arrived at her bedroom door at the same time to check if she was still alive.

Both brothers eyed each other apprehensively at the child’s doorway, the look they gave radiating the thought _‘this isn’t real, right?’_

Eventually though, Papyrus nodded to his eldest brother and curled his bony fingers around the cold doorknob, anxiety swelling in his fictitious stomach as he fully expected the worst.

 _She has only gone to sleep!_ He told himself against the thrumming worry of his soul, _just go in and stop being stupid. Just go…go…go!...now!_

With built up anticipation, he stepped into the room.

There was no-one in bed.

His eyes flew to the floor.

No-one on the floor. No-one against the walls. No-one behind the curtains.

“Um…” he trailed, turning his head to Sans, who always made everything better. Maybe he found Frisk already and had yet to tell him? “I don’t see her, brother.”

His fear was confirmed, however, when the eyelights in Sans’ sockets had vanished.

“damn. was it too much to ask for the kid to just go to sleep?” Sans stepped past Papyrus and slumped to the floor—nearly giving him a heart attack, but he was only looking under the bed. “yeah, no, she’s gone.”

“Um…” Papyrus tried to speak again, considering every positive outlook he could conjure, but lately his usual optimism was hard to come by. He tried, anyway. “Perhaps she’s gone for a walk around the house? In the kitchen?”

The lights in Sans’ eyes returned as he began to think, deciding on a strategy. “ok, you check tori’s room, i’ll check the kitchen,” he replied finally, already making a beeline for the door.

Papyrus’ long frame enabled him to take large strides towards the former queen’s room, who was sound asleep having slept through the entire ordeal.

 _I would bet Sans would give anything to be such a heavy sleeper as Toriel…every slight bump or whisper wakes him up,_ he thought to himself sadly, then suddenly remembering to check the room and not get lost in his thoughts.

But the child was not found. The only living creature in the room was himself and Toriel.

With a heavy heart, he sighed and made his way back to his brother to deliver the bad news.

As it turned out, Sans, too, had come up empty. Well, all but the snack of a hotdog that he acquired from the kitchen.

_Maybe that’s why he wanted to go to the kitchen. So he could snack…did he even check for the human?_

“before you ask, yes, i looked for the kid, and no, i didn’t find them.”

_Ah._

“found this hotdog though. dunno how long it’s been in the fridge for,” he took a bite out of the grub and shrugged nonchalantly, “do you want anything?”

Papyrus’ hands fell on his hips, “Sans, this is an emergency! The human has gone missing and you’re wanting a midnight snack!!”

His infuriating older brother snorted, “all this investigating makes someone like me hungry, y’know?”

“Sans…! You’re…infuriating!”

He grinned, but one that somehow brought Papyrus relief, “i know.”

**…**

Walking around in the unforgiving cold of the pitch-black outdoors wasn’t how Frisk planned to spend her evening, but there wasn't another choice.

Was there?

She certainly didn’t plan to spend the rest of the night being chastised every ten minutes for being in pain. Regardless of whether she wanted to tell anyone.

But the truth of the matter was, she was afraid to go to sleep. If Flowey had embedded himself into her soul, wouldn’t that mean she was vulnerable every time she fell asleep? Well, no more. She was _not_ going to sleep, even if it killed her.

Not to _mention_ her determination was vanishing. Fast. She was a mere shell of her former self, thanks to the godforsaken flower that planned to ruin her life. But protecting the people she loved from her predicament would be an achievement in itself, and for that she would be happy.

And yet, how was she to stop the inevitable unconsciousness when her body refused to function from fatigue?

Well...

_I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it._

Trying to navigate through the dark made her suddenly immensely grateful of the lanterns around Snowdin. Their vivid yellow but pale light guiding her through the town like a star never could.

Briefly, she wondered how she was going to wait out the rest of the night. It had only been...two hours perhaps? The fear of getting caught by the skeleton brothers certainly was a factor, especially by Toriel if they told her about Frisk’s disappearance. Or if they had even noticed at all...

Poor Toriel, though. She would panic and blame herself for failing yet another child. Probably. Hopefully the brothers would spare her that pain and keep it from her. She always found out though. But maybe for her sake (and Frisk's) they would find an excuse.

Abruptly, a silhouette of a figure pulled Frisk out her thoughts, coming to a stop in front of her.

Breath hitching in her throat, she tried to recognise who it was. The telling outline of a bony hand severely narrowed down her options.

Too tall to be Sans, and if it were Papyrus, his boisterous personality would have said something by now, instead of standing there _menacingly_.

Which could only mean... _oh._

_Oh no._

_What’s **he** doing here?_

This wasn’t going to end well.

Frisk hastily spun back around to make a run for it, knowing the attempt would be futile if her assumption was correct.

And going by the instantaneous hand on her shoulder vigorously pulling her back; she was.

She didn’t bother turning around, unable to look the creature in the eye, quivering. Why oh why couldn’t it have been Toriel? Or Alphys? Who even _sent_ him?

“Human, turn around. Don’t run.”

_Well, that’s where Sans gets it from._

She swallowed, hard, chewing on her lip at the strong urge to bolt away. But this wasn’t going to end the way she wanted it to, so she held her breath, prying the creature’s hand off her shoulder and turning around to face him.

Sure enough, piercing white eyes bore into her, eyebrows raising at the odd attempt to put up a struggle against a creature that could so obviously overpower anyone in the underground. Except perhaps Sans. He was so dimly lit against the faint glow of the lanterns, but just going by the voice it was obvious it was the skeletons’ creator.

“ _Wha_ t?” she spat with vigour, wanting desperately to keep some speck of control back. Couldn’t he see she wanted to be left alone to mope around in peace?

“What are you doing outside?” Gaster asked instead, seemingly not one to answer her ambiguous question.

_Oh, I don’t know, I was left in my room crying for three hours and eventually I decided to make a break for it._

“There was a window, I used it,” she replied coolly, subconsciously aware of her legs quivering, and this time it wasn’t because of the cold.

The elder skeleton glowered at her suspiciously, before taking a step back, to Frisk’s relief. “Your friends are worried about you.”

She narrowed her eyes, “I know.” _But I don’t want to go home. I’ll stay out all night and there’s nothing you can do to stop me._

“Are you aware of my youngest’s new ability to become rather anxious? This is certainly not helping matters. I do not appreciate getting calls at three o’clock in the morning because a child has made my son upset.”

Well, now he’s making her sound like a dick. Not to mention it was her fault for messing with the timelines so many times to the point where Papyrus now had to live with unjustifiable anxiety…but he didn’t need to know that. Not even a reset would solve this…

“Yeah, but, there’s Sans, right?” she bit her lip, her _own_ anxiety was taking refuge in her stomach right now, “They always sort each other out.”

Speaking of anxiety, her chest was started to heave again. She took in shuddery breaths, trying her best to mask the pain from the overly observant monster.

“Not always,” Gaster chided, his features relaxing. Probably at the realisation Frisk wasn’t hostile or about to make a break for it. At this rate she could catch him off guard.

“Well, you can let them know I’m fine, I don’t want to go home,” her voice was tense, every inch of her soul throbbing with every harsh breath she took. It was difficult to keep the pain from reaching her facial expressions, clenching her teeth was as far as she would allow herself to go.

“Any particular reason why you choose not to go home?” Frisk knew Gaster was speaking but his words were lost on her through a static-sounding haze. She concentrated on breathing more than anything, trying to keep herself under control.

_In._

_Out._

_In._

_Out._

_Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry._

Words that she had tried to encourage herself with just hours before, but obviously were fruitless considering where she ended up.

“Uhhh…” she pretended to think of an answer to whatever question he was asking her.

Focusing intently on the monster in front of her, she stared at random sections of his face to try and distract herself. That soon proved to be difficult though as black spots began to appear, consuming her vision.

Unfortunately, the blurry figure moved away, out of her line of sight and left her staring into nothingness. Desperately, her eyes sought out something else to stare at—lanterns, lampposts, stars…? Oh, those weren’t stars, those were just her vision—

A hand clamped onto her wrist—she jumped, sharply inhaling through her nose— _don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry…_

She forced herself to look down, shaky breathing making it hard not to give into the urge to cry. The figure unblurred itself, phasing in and out of focus.  
He was crouching slightly now, trying to meet Frisk's eye. And although she couldn’t hear what he was saying, she was just about able to read his lips.

**_Are you alright?_ **

She couldn’t stop her eyes from widening. _Shit shit shit. No. No don’t let him know. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine._

“I’m fine,” she forced herself to croak out, which all but released the guttural cry at the back of her throat.

Stars, her chest hurts so bad. But she had to keep it together. She was determined…wasn’t she?

Apparently her wishes didn’t matter though, as before she could react (as if she were even able to…) the grasp on her wrist grew momentarily tighter, and suddenly she felt as if she were being ripped apart. Then put back together again.

 _No! No! I don’t want to go home!_ She tried to say, but her lips refused to move.

The world went dark, occasionally flashing white and black again like a broken strobe light.

Then it stopped.

Even through the blurry image that her eyes offered her, Frisk knew this wasn’t home. This gave some relief, but also scepticism. Where was she?

Frisk was aware of the low droning of Gaster’s voice, but unfortunately her ears were not up for behaving at this current moment. All she could decipher from it was just that—a low drone.

But her mind was frozen, cogs grinding to a halt, refusing to process anything around her. She was unmoving. The image of the room soon dipped to white again. The agony in her soul was fire, on a mission to devour her body.

Her trembling legs finally had enough of the ordeal and gave out, and this time Frisk lost any will to stop it.

She awaited the impact with the ground, but it never came. Instead, she felt the weight of her body lift off the ground, her face landing on something simultaneously soft and hard. Still, it was oddly comfortable. It was just then her brain made the connection that she had been slung over a shoulder.

It felt almost relieving, not having to carry the weight of her own body anymore. It was very, _very_ tiring.

Tired.

Why did that word struck fear into her sinking stomach?

_I’ll have to just let a part of me manifest inside you instead until you’re weak enough to take over._

Flowey’s threat had lay dormant in her mind for a while, but having come to the forefront, a burst of energy suddenly brought her senses back to life, sound and sight returning into some coherent form.

_Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep!_

She panicked, attempting to wriggle out the tight hold this monster had got her in. She flailed her arms around, pushing and shoving to get out and run again, but to no avail. He was _much_ stronger than her.

“Get off me!” she shrieked, trying with as much force as she could muster to pry herself out of the grasp. “Put me down!”

The reply came with fierce demand, “Stop struggling, we have only teleported.”

That wasn’t why she was panicking! “I said get the hell off me, you freak!” she tried elbowing him in whatever area her restricted arm movement would allow, but it came off as nothing more than a weak tug.

“I am not going to let you go, so I advise you to refrain from struggling.”

In the heat of the moment, Frisk gathered the strength to ram an elbow into the clavicle on Gaster’s shoulder, causing her chest pain to flare up at the strain. The man shouted something in a different language—presumably his own, before dropping the child on the floor and sending her a death glare.

“How dare you!” he hissed.

Frisk’s shoulders slumped, immediately feeling the guilt. Who was she to fight? She never does that. Why was she so…angry? She casually rubbed her ribs, trying to soothe the ache away.

_I’m too weak…I’m too weak!_

_He’s taking over…I’m not strong enough…I’m not…determined…_

_I have to get out…_

“I’m sorry,” Frisk whispered, before immediately whirling around and making a run for the door. She got as far as about five steps away before she was hauled up into the air by blue magic.

She gulped.

_I forgot he could do that._

With ease, she was brought over to him, forced to look him in the eye. His own eyes searched her, as if looking for malicious intention.

“Apology accepted,” he conceded, straightening out his black cloak, “I will let you go now. Do not run away.” Frisk landed safely on her feet.

Well, any determination she had left before that was all but gone now.

She slumped to the floor on her knees, essentially giving up. Was this how Sans felt?

How Papyrus felt?

She wasn’t sure if she cared. Maybe she deserved this. That wretched flower was going to take control and there was nothing she could do about it. Her mind ran over the option to tell someone, it begged her to do it, a million times over. But then she’d have to explain the resets, and all the horrible things she did.

_And that it’s my fault Papyrus is the way he is now._

“Human,” Gaster’s voice broke through her haze. She glanced up at him sluggishly. “If you do not mind my saying so, you are not acting yourself.”

Frisk snorted. That was an understatement.

_You’re right. I’m acting like a soulless creature with a lust to kill._

She didn’t know how to convey that message, so she simply shrugged.

To her surprise, Gaster knelt down in front of her, the gesture making her pale. So, he really means business, huh.

“You are a determined child. That is your soul trait, correct?”

She nodded.

“Yes. And from what I have observed, you have lost your defining trait. It must be quite serious. I don’t recall this ever happening before, at least to any creature I have come across.”

She nodded again. Frisk guessed her soul was still red with determination, but it was probably…tainted. Or something. She couldn’t bear to look herself. Maybe she should.

“I would like to investigate this.”

Somehow, Frisk managed to pale even more than before, shuffling back as panic dominated her features. No, he was _not_ going to do any science-y experiment on her, let alone her _soul!_ She’d seen him in the alternate timelines, the ones where he did really bad things. And…Alphys, she tried to mess with determination, and she created… _that_! These monsters had no idea what they were doing!

The corner’s of Gaster’s mouth tilted upwards, “I understand your aversion to this, but I assure you that you can trust me. I _am_ a scientist first and foremost.”

She shook her head, _no. no. no. no._

_That’s the problem. You’re a scientist. You just want to satisfy your curiosity, even if it kills me._

“If we do not look into this, I fear what may happen to you,” Gaster pressed, trying to get Frisk to see the problem and failing, “Your SOUL is the culmination of your being. If there is something wrong with it, then—”

“ _No!”_ she shouted a little too loudly. Surprise etched across Gaster’s face.

“No?”

“No,” she repeated quieter, “I can’t. Don’t make me.” she felt her own soul thrumming away rapidly from sheer panic. There was no way. _No way._

“And what will happen if this continues?”

Frisk’s stomach lurched, very aware that if this…sadistic flower is able to get a foot in any further than it already has, she would be dead. Gone. Kaput. Just a host for this maniac. And using her body, it will kill all her friends. And…

What if it gains the ability to reset again?

“No,” she choked out, remembering she hadn’t replied to him for a while.

_I’m so weak. I’m so weak…_

Gaster watched her for a while, clearly determining something was amiss from her sheer panic at this precise moment. He was probably trying to figure out what it was. Well, good luck with that.

“That does not answer my question,” he says instead, and Frisk was well aware of him staring at her thoughtfully, as she submitted into having a full-blown panic attack.

She wheezed, clutching her arms and doubling over, panting as her eyes swam with tears.

_In._

_Out._

_In._

_Out._

_It wasn’t working. I’m going to die._

She vaguely heard the monster hum in thought, before bony fingers placed themselves around her wrist.

_Yes, you idiot, I’m dying! I’m dying, right here right now, and all you care to do is ask me questions!_

“Human.”

_Shut up! Stop talking! I’m dying!_

_I need to breathe. Oh stars..._

“Frisk.”

At the mention of her name, that got her attention. Her vision was swimming, breaths sawing in and out. She couldn’t get enough air in. These were the last things she was ever going to see. Just…a crazed monster in his lab.

“You are fine. You must breathe,” he reached into something in his pocket, pressing a button before subtly tucking it away again.

Frisk coughed, whining at the bile rising in her throat.

_Is this what dying feels like? It’s horrible. I thought it would be something more peaceful._

_And his damn hand still hasn’t left my wrist._

Moments later, two pairs of feet came into view.

“Hello, Dr Gaster. You called?”

There was only silence in reply. Presumably, they were communicating through facial expressions.

She wasn’t sure why, but she vomited.

“Okay, okay,” she heard from a feminine voice above her. The subject of the voice knelt down in front of her, ensuring she could see her. “Frisk, is it?”

She nodded. “I’m dying.”

“Okay, Frisk, you’re not dying. This is a panic attack.”

She shook her head. _No she doesn’t understand. I’m being taken over by a fucking flower! Shut up!_

A male voice, not belonging to Gaster this time, sounded from the right of her. “What do you want us to do, sir?”

She gasped for air, clawing at the woman in front of her. The woman hushed her, pulling her close and telling her over and over to breathe. It was a futile effort.

“There is a table in the back room. Put her on there, we might have to sedate her if this doesn’t stop. There is something amiss with her soul and I must find out what it is.”

Knowing there was no escape, Frisk both inhaled, coughed and vomited at the same time. Her vision dotted with black spots, and distantly she wondered if the spots were petals.

Her body went entirely slack but trembling, allowing the kind woman to lift her with ease. She wasn’t sure why two people showed up, clearly they only needed one, maybe it was in case she fought back. Clearly, she couldn’t.

Having taking to hyperventilating over a shoulder, Frisk shook as she watched Gaster follow impassively from behind, unable to get enough air in. She distantly heard him telling them to hurry up, a gentle hand of the woman pressing on her back, comforting.

Eventually the last door slid open, and she was brought into a room that was surprisingly warm. Granted, the lab was in Hotlands, so it was to be expected. She was no longer in Snowdin.

Her body was gently lay out on a table fitted with a single pillow, the two supposed staff members hurrying around the room. Frisk rolled onto her front, shoving her face into said pillow, breaths sawing in and out into it. The pain was ratcheting in her chest now, her fingers tightly squeezing the pillowcase.

“Frisk?” the woman’s voice was back. She made a small grunt in reply. “My friend here is just going to get you a blanket,” she assumed she was referring to the male associate, “You need to steady your breathing for me, can you do that?”

She shook her head, rolling onto her side to face the woman, “Dying.”

“You’re not dying, I promise.”

_I am! Why don’t they believe me!?_

“I…dying,” she breathed, bringing a hand over and gesturing to her chest, “Hurts.”

In the distance, she saw Gaster raise an eyebrow at the gesture.

_Oh no. I’ve said too much._

_I’ve said too much._

_I’ve said too much—_

“Frisk, breathe,” the voice said again, “You’re ok. I promise. We’re going to sort out whatever is happening to you, but first I have to check, are you in pain?”

Her mind was desperate for relief, and against her own wishes, she nodded, as if observing herself moving with an out-of-body experience.

“This is more than just a panic attack,” a male voice announced.

The female assistant chimed in, “Something else is going on. She is extremely weak. Whatever this is, it’s exacerbating the symptoms.”

_Weak._

_Weak._

**_Weak_ ** _—_

Something bit her finger. She yelped.

“There isn’t enough oxygen going in,” she heard Gaster say as her sight began to vignette.

Something bit her wrist, and then her elbow. She started weeping again.

“I don’t…I don’t…want…to…die…” her voice seemed like it belonged in another body. Like it wasn’t really there.

“You’re not dying,” the feminine voice tried to reassure her for the millionth time. Amongst her fading vision, she felt something airy smother her face, bony hands wrapped secure around her jaw.

“No,” Frisk whispered, trying to kick away, “No.” her arms started trembling on their own again.

“This is only to help you breathe. You are fine.” the unmistakable voice of Gaster said. With a couple more desperate breaths, the burning sensation in her lungs started to subside. Her body screamed for the extra help, sucking in as much as much of the aid as it could.

“Slowly,” the same voice demanded, “If you don’t calm down I will sedate you.”

Frisk released a shaky breath, trying to force herself to calm down. Damn, he is _not_ good at being comforting. Maybe that’s why he has assistants.

After a couple more moments, breathing became a lot easier, less of a task. Something warm and cotton was draped over her body, tickling her arms and legs.

 _Blanket,_ her mind supplied. Her small fingers curled around it. It was a lifeline.

“There you go,” the male voice said, “Keep going, nice and slow. You’re doing great.”

Frisk clenched her jaw; her mind was desperately begging her to breath in as fast as she possibly could, but she knew there would be consequences, and she _couldn’t_ go to sleep.

Vaguely, the feeling of embarrassment began to creep up at the back of her mind. Did she…really just have a panic attack? In front of _Gaster_ of all people? And these…two strangers she’d never even met?

Her mind eventually made the connection that the button he pressed earlier was a call for help, and these two were the result of that. Now that she was beginning to understand her surroundings, it was much easier to calm down. She was in his lab. In Hotlands. They teleported.

This was so _embarrassing._

“Hmm,” Gaster finally released the grip from the mask on her jaw and tended to some numbers on a nearby monitor. “That is looking much better.”

Frisk swallowed hard; despite everything, despite being calm, he now had her vulnerable in his lab. And he was a scientist that wanted answers to absolutely everything.

And considering she gave away her chest pain and complaining that she was dying while her soul trait all but vanished, he wasn’t going to let this go.

What if she turned into an amalgamate? She tried not think about that.

Gaster reappeared, looming over her, “Without retriggering that earlier episode, can you tell me where the pain is again?”

Shaky hands seemed to move without her permission, falling onto her chest.

“Your chest? Interesting. Did your lack of determination occur at the same time this pain started?”

She nodded.

“Hmm.” Purple magic spun out of Gaster’s hands, and dove into Frisk’s chest. Moments later, white hot pain registered as her SOUL floated above her body. She winced clenching her jaw, slamming her head into the pillow.

She vaguely saw the almost expression of shock upon the scientist’s face, and the exchanged looks of all three scientists in the room, before the magic stopped and her soul was released. _Relief._

The expression on Gaster’s face faded back to apathy, and he looked her in the eye fully expecting the earlier episode to reoccur. “We cannot do this while you are awake. I…your SOUL is very damaged.”

“No.”

“I don’t understand your aversion to sleeping, my eldest would be ashamed of you.”

“I said no.”

“I’m taking it out again either way, you will be in severe pain, I am warning you.”

“I don’t care.”

She did care. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She was _terrified._

Gaster sighed, giving a certain look towards his two associates, who shared the same expression. They nodded, and started to move around her. “Then I apologise for this. I cannot in good conscience cause you further pain, neither can I let you suffer. I _will_ fix this.”

The feeling of panic was returning. Her brain supplied her only one goal. _Run._

Before she could get a chance to lift a foot out from the blankets however, the two associates gently held her arms, giving her pitying, _caring_ glances, while Gaster readied a syringe.

Was this what the original forms of the Amalgamates saw before they merged together and melted?

“I don’t want to,” Frisk whispered, more to the associates than Gaster, as he was pointless to argue with, “ _Please_ , I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet!”

The male associate spoke this time, “You know, Wingding comes off as a bit off an ass, but he does care, really,” he tried to tell her, causing a small chuckle from the female associate. “He’s changed a lot since Papyrus…um…yeah. A lot more understanding.”

The female agreed, the conversation successfully distracting Frisk as a bony hand took her left arm, “He doesn’t like to show it. But deep down he does. He cares a lot about his kids. Maybe you remind him of them when they were younger?”

A sharp pain ran up her arm. Frisk’s eyes widened, she jolted.

“No—” she started again, suddenly gathering the energy to kick and fight, “No! _NO!”_

It was too late though. She felt the liquid burning in her veins. Eating her alive. She was going to turn into one of those _things_. Even the doors were melting. Everything was melting. The world was melting. And Frisk…was going numb.

A high-pitched whistle suddenly made itself known in her ears, her vision spinning, swimming, defocusing. She stopped fighting. Her body went slack. She couldn’t fight it. This was it. Her death.

“I thank you for your assistance today,” she heard Gaster say distantly, the three faces watching her from above, “I may be working here for a while. If you need anything, you may contact me through the receiver, or if it’s not urgent, contact my eldest son. But that likely will not be needed.”

Frisk blinked tiredly, all her worries melting away. Her eyelids grew heavy. Maybe…maybe it’s time to have a nap…?

“…yes, sir….”

“…..look after her, won’t you?....”

“…my best…”

It finally went black.

* * *

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...sorry...? :D


	3. Chapter 3 - Roots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk recovers. Or tries to. It doesn't go too well. 
> 
> Gaster is tired.

_“I thank you for your assistance today,” she heard Gaster say distantly, the three faces watching her from above, “I may be working here for a while. If you need anything, you may contact me through the receiver, or if it’s not urgent, contact my eldest son. But that likely will not be needed.”_

_Frisk blinked tiredly, all her worries melting away. Her eyelids grew heavy._

_“…yes, sir….”_

_“…..look after her, won’t you?....”_

_“…my best…”_

_It finally went black._

**...**

Waking up was the hardest part. Anaesthesia messed with your head. Frisk was dazed, unsure where she was, what time it was, anything that happened…all she knew was that she was alive. Right now.

And her chest _really_ hurt.

She moaned, not entirely sure why, but she thinks it’s to ground herself. She felt like she could fall asleep again at any moment—was this even real?

Her breathing was heavy, laboured, and there was a hell of a lot of beeping, and _talking_.

Eventually, though, something came through the fog.

“heya.”

Blinking sluggishly, Frisk forced her eyelids open, recognising the voice. It was a blurry blue mess, but she still _knew._

“…’ans?” her mouth felt like cotton.

“yep. that’s me. Ans.”

Frisk snorted, sounding something akin to a malfunctioning tractor, before whizzing her heavy head over to the side. “…’m ‘orry.”

He grinned, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. “nah, I’m the one who should be sorry. i was supposed to be looking out for ya, and instead i got you a run in with my old man. and…he likes to fix things that are broken.”

“’aster?”

“yeah.”

“…scary man.”

It was Sans’ turn to snort now, gazing up and looking over her for some reason.

“yeah. real scary.”

“…’ans?”

“yeah?”

“Wha’ ‘appen?”

Sans sighed, his eyelights shrinking. “your soul was uh…a problem. but, my pops fixed it. so, you’re all good now.”

Oh…yeah…

…Flowey. That was a thing.

“…owy”

“owie? you still hurtin’?”

“No…flooowweeey.” Frisk drawled, the drug making her struggle to speak.

“oh. him. what about him?”

Frisk grinned sheepishly, “haha…my soul.”

The eyelights disappeared altogether.

“wait, he did that to your soul?”

Frisk nodded, “yaaaa.”

“oh. i’m gonna crush the little fucker under my shoe when i—”

“Language, Sans.”

Oh, Gaster was here too. So that was who Sans was looking at when Frisk called him ‘scary man’.

“i will demolish that…weed when i next come across him.”

“Better.”

Frisk heard shuffling going on from behind her, until her view of the beautiful white tiled ceiling was interrupted by the deep-set scowl of the elder scientist staring down at her.

She blinked tiredly.

“…ellooo.”

Gaster smirked. “Hello, Frisk.”

Frisk smiled, trying to raise her hand but failing. It was too heavy. And there were trails of wires sticking out of it.

“M’ arm…truck.”

“Ah. Yes, you are on quite a cocktail of drugs.”

“Druggsss?”

“Yes.”

“Wowwww.”

Gaster changed the subject, “How are you feeling?”

“Mmmm…” Frisk blinked tiredly again, noticing how Gaster’s coat blended perfectly into the white ceiling. She would be sad when she is no longer flat on her back. The ceiling is pretty.

“Feeeel…weird.”

“That is to be expected.”

Frisk found herself suddenly too tired to speak. She groaned, closing her eyes.

“Your SOUL had been infected with…a substance I have yet to analyse. It was spreading rapidly and had the unfortunate side effect of destroying your trait. It took me eight hours to reverse the damage. It is still healing, it will be painful for a while, but I would assume not as bad as before.”

Frisk opened her eyes again. “…saved me.”

Something in Gaster’s eyes lit up, as if those two words somehow had any exceptional meaning.

“You’re welcome.”

Frisk smiled. It felt nice to smile, as if she hadn’t done so for a while.

Gaster turned to Sans.

“This effect is temporary, a side-effect of the drug. When she is taken off them, there will be pain. But that too will be temporary. Do you understand?”

Sans rolled his shoulders, “yeah, i know. kinda figured.”

He was a scientist too, after all.

“Good.”

Frisk was having a good time counting all the ceiling tiles—she had got up to fourteen when a pen light disintegrated her eyes. The room span for minutes afterwards.

“Ow!” her eyes flew shut.

“Normal pupil response.”

“’oulda told you that!”

“Testing is necessary. It is part of the logging.”

“Mm’dun care! Don’ do that again!”

Gaster eye socket twinged in bemusement.

“Mm.”

Rational thought began to return to Frisk’s mind as her body became used to the medications, “Ahhh, am I gonna die?”

“Mm?”

“Am I still gonna die?”

“No.”

“Thass…so cool…thanks”

Frisk opened her eyes again to see what he was doing. Gaster was preoccupied writing something down.

“Whatcha doin?”

Gaster glanced up from the sheet and met her gaze, “Your notes.”

“My notes?”

“Yes.”

Frisk groaned. He was so vague! How did Sans and Papyrus cope?

His eyes flicked from the clipboard to the monitor, likely writing her stats down.

“Is it good?” she slurred tiredly, wanting to go to sleep but somehow still wanting answers.

“It is acceptable for the condition you’re in.”

“Whassat mean?”

She heard the elder man sigh, exasperated. “It means your health is negative twice the number it should be. Your DEF is 1, and your ATK…non-existent.”

Frisk blinked, honestly having no clue what any of the words meant but it sounded bad.

“Thasss’ accep…ball?”

“You are alive. That is acceptable. We can work on your stats when you are not drugged.”

Frisk grinned, if it was ok with the scary man then it was ok with her, “’kay.”

Her brain became aware of an itchiness on her face.

It was getting annoying.

She crossed her eyes for fun, to see if her nose was still there.

“Nose” she drawled, and took a deep breath. Ahh, it didn’t hurt to breathe!

“yea, nose.”

Oh, she forgot Sans was there.

“You dun’ have a nose,” Frisk declared, a heavy, sluggish arm pointed at him, or _tried_ to, landing unceremoniously on the side of the bed, dangling.

“i guess?” he looked exhausted. Probably both from fatigue and worry. Poor dude.

“Why dun you have…nose?”

Sans shrugged, “who nose.”

Frisk giggled, immediately stopping as something pulled in her chest. She held her breath, and so did everyone in the room.

“you ok?” Sans’ concerned face was immediately awake again. Gaster too had shifted his gaze from the clipboard to Frisk’s face, analysing it for signs of pain.

“Mm…” she suddenly felt hot. “um…”

Gaster’s eyes shifted to the monitors now. “Heart-rate has elevated again. Are you in pain? Do not lie to me.”

Frisk shrunk in on herself, nodding. She would never lie to scary man. “hot.”

The familiar feeling brought awareness to the surface of Frisk’s drugged mind, but the look on Sans’ face made her feel incredibly guilty. “M’ sure it’s fine.” she exhaled forcefully, moving a hand to drag the mask away from her face; it was itchy. Another hand stopped her.

“Don’t touch that,” Gaster demanded, “Is it your soul again?”

Frisk felt flushed, all energy pouring out as quickly as it came in. She felt like she was going to pass out. “Uhh…I…”

“stay awake kiddo, if you can,” she heard Sans say. Something clipped onto her index finger. She groaned.

“…Impossible.”

“what?”

“It is growing back.”

“…what.”

“Perhaps my conclusions were wrong, and the substance is sentient.”

“that’s mad—wait.” Sans glanced at Frisk, then back to Gaster. “flowey.”

They both exchanged looks.

“Ah.”

“shit.”

“What did the Flower say to her?”

“uhh, i dunno,” Sans put a hand on Frisk’s shoulder, shaking her out of her half-asleep state, “frisk? c’mon, wake up.”

“Huh?”

“what did flowey say to you?”

“Jus’…jus’ that…um…take…soul…yeah…soul…soul music, haha.”

“ok. welp, i think you were right, G, whatever is in there is sentient, and it’s trying to grow back.”

“Intriguing. I suppose I will be in here for another eight hours to repeat the procedure.” Frisk felt an all too familiar sting in her arm.

“Aweee not agaaaain!” This time, she really didn’t care.

**...**

Great. Gaster had _just_ spent eight hours of his day fixing the kid’s soul, and now he has to do it _again_. He was going to be really moody later.

Although, drugging her even more seemed unnecessary. She was hardly coherent as it was.

“was that really necessary? she’s already drugged to hell.”

A short pause. “I do not want to risk her feeling anything.”

There was a low chuckle, “gee, pops, you’re really going soft.”

With a flick of his wrist, Gaster pulled Frisk’s soul out her body, the red heart-shaped orb glowing and throbbing painfully. As the intruder had only just started growing again, it was no-where near as bad as before. In fact, the only thing visible was the roots.

And this time he had Sans with him.

“It should be as simple as unravelling these small strands,” Gaster began to explain, “Concentrate your magic at the start, here,” he pointed a phalange at a tiny thin vine sticking out of Frisk’s cracked soul. “I will start at the other end. The object should simply react to the magic and unravel on its own as it hasn’t had time to implant itself. Be aware not to concentrate too much indirectly at the physical soul itself, or—”

“or it’ll crack, yeah yeah, i getcha.”

_are you really forgetting who i’ve spent my entire life learning from?_

Gaster huffed, but started the process wordlessly, leaving Sans to follow suit. It was delicate, _very_ delicate. Frisk’s soul was fragile enough as it was without two of them focusing magic onto it.

There was a small dent in the centre of her soul, which Sans assumed was what Gaster had meant by the object embedding itself there and taking a _very_ long time to get out. Had Frisk had not waited _days_ to get help, or—no—reached her limits to the point of a breakdown wherein she had _no choice_ but to get help, this would probably be a very different story.

She was very lucky that it was the underground’s greatest scientist of all people that she had ran into. Otherwise…Flowey probably would have won his prize by now.

Sans shuddered at the thought but forced himself to keep going.

**... **

Around an hour and a half later and they were both done. The finished soul was raw, painful, but against all odds; still beating.

And _hopefully_ that was the last time they had to do this. Sans thought he was done for the day until Gaster suddenly wielded a _bloody great big syringe_ and shoved it into the soul as if it wasn’t already on the verge of cracking. A brighter red, almost yellow bled around the edges of the soul, seeping into the centre until the entire thing was covered in itself.

Gaster had claimed it was an extra layer of coating to protect the soul from the regrowth of the vines, at least until there was enough determination for it to do its job again.

Now she really _was_ protected.

“is it all done?” Sans asked, not sure what else they could do at this point.

“Yes. Now all that remains is the recovery period,” once again, with a simple flick of the wrist, the soul traversed back inside the owner's body. “Thank you, Sans.” He offered sincerely.

_wow. he must be really tired._

“really? you're thanking me? that’s new. do you wanna go to grillbys later?”

Gaster smirked, “I appreciate the offer, but I must watch the human closely.”

Sans craned his head playfully, “awe, don’t tell me, you've gained the ability to care?”

“I don’t like your tone, Sans.”

Sans frowned. And here he was thinking his pops secretly had emotions.

“But I have never not had the ability to care, in fact it is my downfall.”

_oh, man._

“you're...it's not...” he tried, and sighed, “it’s not a bad thing. like, we both care a lot ‘bout paps.”

“Yes, that is different. He is family.”

They both sat in heavy silence for a while. There was a lot unspoken about that subject.

“...what _are_ we going to do about paps?”

Gaster stopped staring into nothingness and met Sans’ gaze.

“I am not sure. I had assumed you would know what to do.”

Sans blinked in disbelief, “so it’s all up to me to fix him?”

“I don't have the ability to allow my home life to affect my work.”

_now he's asking for it._

“you don’t give a shit, do you?”

Gaster narrowed his eyes, tensing his jaw, “I beg your pardon?”

_you heard me._

“work is more important to you than your son.”

“You know that is not what I meant.”

“then what _do_ you mean, huh, G? you're never there and all the kids are scared of you.”

_maybe insults are a step too far._

“You...” Gaster's expression was fuming, “Does today mean nothing to you? Should I remind you that you called me at three o'clock in the morning because Papyrus was having an episode of anxiety, yet I came regardless?”

“it shouldn’t be _regardless_ you sanctimonious old man! i love him but i can’t always deal with him on my own! you're our father for fucks sakes--"

“ **Sans**!” Gaster boomed at a volume that probably awoke the entire underground, “Do _not_ use that language towards me!”

Sans fell silent.

“Of course I care. I do not always have time to be around, but I do what I can. If you feel you cannot cope on a particular day, I will attempt to intervene. Such as I did today.”

The young skeleton's gaze dropped to the floor.

_damn. how long have I bottled that up for._

“m’srry.”

Gaster heavily sighed. “It is alright. Today has been...eventful.”

_yeah, that’s one way to put it._

**…**

Waking up to the smell of musty air and the sound of steady rhythmic beeping was beginning to become a pattern, and there was one thing that came to Frisk’s mind.

_I’m still alive…_

_How is that possible…?_

_I feel like I shouldn’t be…?_

_And how do I feel like I’ve done this before…?_

Cracking open an eyelid, she winced and squeezed her eyes shut again, white florescent lights burning her retinas.

 _Where am I?_ she wondered, still reeling against the stark beams of light. She hadn’t managed to get a glimpse of her surroundings and was sure there was an answer that lay within the beeping sound, but her hazy mind couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

In fact, her mind didn’t really want to think _at all_. It was if something had gotten jammed into the turning cogs of her mind, and now she was a lost, meaningless speck of dust, a lonely atom floating around in space.

Maybe the light was a star. Maybe she didn’t survive, and she was in the afterlife. That would make sense.

Thanks to the sudden teleportation into the afterlife, her auditory sense had been all but reduced to a simple shrill ringing in her ears. Even the continuous monotone beeping had stopped. She could still hear her own breathing though, so that was something, she supposed.

_Stars…where am I…?_

_Why is everything so…foggy? I can’t…think…_

_What…what is going on…_

Frisk tried to awaken her senses by analysing what she could feel, but her mind only provided her with the knowledge that she wasn’t warm or cold. Vaguely, she was aware of her head resting on something soft. Comfortable. In fact, her whole body was. Everything was soft and comfortable.

_Well._

She was laying on something soft and comfortable, that much was fact. _Okay, that’s a start._

Holding her breath, she forced an eyelid open again. The blinding white light still hadn’t turned off, but her surroundings were less blurry. Distantly, she thought she saw her arm. She squinted, trying with all her might to concentrate on it despite the headache of the above lights. It focused, but she couldn’t feel it.

She tried moving her fingers. It worked. But…it felt detached. Like she was watching a movie starring her hand moving from a distance.

Frisk planned to give up and shut her eyes again; the pull of sleep was stronger than her will to stay awake. But just as she decided to do so, something moved into the frame of the movie. It was just a solid black colour. No shape to it. Just…black. It was so…dark…and…black…and…

Her eyelids grew uncontrollably heavy, and in the end she decided her curiosity could wait another day as she slipped her eyes shut. It felt like a relief. That movie was too boring anyway.

Frisk felt herself falling…falling…endlessly falling knowing she wasn’t moving. Sinking through whatever _the soft and comfortable_ object she was laying happened to be. Until the darkness swallowed her whole.

**…**

The next time her mind was forced to the brink of consciousness wasn’t much better. In fact, she felt worse. She faintly remembered her first return to the light and her brief exposure to the afterlife and that everything was just bright and yucky, but it was something. At least her mind was still intact. Even though it wasn’t being much use right now.

Dizzily, Frisk was aware of the faint tug at her wrist, and the sensation of it moving on it’s own. That was cool. Who knew arms could move on their own? While distracted with that thought, something touched her shoulder. It too, moved with her permission. Back and forth. Almost roughly. She tried to tense up to get it to stop. It did. But moments later, her arm started doing it too.

She groaned in frustration. Why was her body being so disobedient? Were her arms sentient now?

Cracking open bleary eyes with the intention to find her arm, she found the solid black object there again, but it was more detailed. Actually, it was moving. Almost like…cloth.

Yes.

Cloth.

_Thank you, brain, for coming to that satisfying conclusion. It was cloth. Cloth cloth cloth. Clothes…black clothes…_

She hadn’t noticed she had been staring absent-mindedly at the cloth until a distantly recognisable face appeared in front of her. It was talking, going by the fact the supposed mouth was moving. But she couldn’t hear anything except her own breathing.

With one strained inhale, she tried to speak.

“cuh…’ear ‘ou” she slurred hoarsely, her throat burning at the attempt.

The face in front of her frowned, before it disappeared from her vision altogether.

Good. The black cloth was much easier to look at than white. It wasn’t so bright. It was…dark. Yes.

Frisk was vaguely aware of something cool travelling up her arm, and dizzily she wondered if she was drooling and her mouth was somehow on her wrist. Wouldn’t that be weird? …But now one arm was really cold. She frowned.

In fact, the high-pitched ringing in her ears was fading out to a dull annoyance, as the beeping from earlier on came back into play. There were a lot of noises that came back, actually. She wasn’t sure if she liked it.

“…Is that better?” she heard a voice say. It sounded distant, and required a lot of concentration to decipher the noise into words. Her brain really, _really_ just wanted to go back to sleep.

“Eeaahh,” she garbled, closing her eyes again.

“Hmm,” the creature held up a small glass to Frisk’s dry lips, “Drink, it will help.”

She attempted to take sips, with great difficulty. It seemed every sip zapped more of her energy, so what was the point.

Actually, what was the name of that creature again? It was at the tip of her tongue, but just like her mouth, it was currently stuffed with cotton and she couldn’t talk, or think.

“Www….” She stopped to take a breath, that sound was difficult to produce apparently, “…am I?” she asked the insides of her eyelids.

No way was she opening them again.

“You’re in my lab. Hotlands. I have given you adrenaline, you should feel more awake soon.” The creature placed the glass on a nearby table.

“Ohhhh,” that explained the cold arm. But adrenaline was _fast_ right? Really _fast_ like a runner that runs _fast._ So shouldn’t her arm be hot? “Fast,” she found herself garbling.

The creature didn’t reply.

For some unknown reason, she moaned. She knew there was a reason, but her mind didn’t supply one. Just that she had to do it. Something was wrong. But she didn’t know what.

“I cannot give you anymore painkillers. You have already been asleep for three days.”

Oh. Three days? But that wasn’t why she was moaning; she didn’t feel anything.

“Mmmm…num…” she gargled, inhaling sharply when she ran out of air, “nummmm…”

“Yes. I am not surprised you feel numb.”

Her mind supplied her a name.

“Saann?”

“He is asleep.”

Ohhh.

“Mamaaa?”

“Her majesty is at home. If you would prefer, I can request her attendance here.”

“Mmm…maaaa,” the word really rolled off the tongue. Her face contorted into a crying expression. “I wannn maaaa!”

Frisk heard a heavy sigh before numerous other _beeps_ resounded around the room, but with different pitches. Different frequencies. Where did they come from? What’s a frequency? What’s a beep?

“Good morning, it is Dr Gaster again. Yes, the child is fine. Yes…yes…” he sounded exasperated, “Yes…they are awake, in fact.”

Oh, it’s Gaster. Of course it was.

“Yessss…” Frisk repeated after him, as if the word meant something. Gaster turned around and frowned at her repetitive behaviour in annoyance.

“They are asking for you. I recommend that you visit them here, because they will not be fit to return home anytime soon.”

Frisk giggled at the word ‘fit’, “Exercise! Cat! If it fits…I…wheeee…”

“In fact, I implore you to see her as soon as you can,” was that desperation in his voice?

“Wheeee…why do you…have black clothes?”

“Thank you. You may enter and come straight in; we have not moved from yesterday’s visit.”

“I’m floooattinngg!”

“Goodbye.”

“What if…I could…fly?”

Gaster tucked the phone into his pocket and stared at her with a hint of irritation on his features.

“I see the adrenaline is working.”

Frisk felt absolutely numb and so, that she was floating. “I can fly!”

“…You are not flying.”

“I’m…floating…in the clouds…in the sky…are we on the surface yet?”

“They are, we are not.”

“Wooww,” Frisk was shocked. The surface was so big and orange. Much bigger than the underground. It was also kinda blue.

“Your mother is on her way.”

That brought some warmth to her numb soul, “yay!”

Honestly, she could just be dreaming, but she had never seen Gaster look so damn tired in her life. What had he been doing for three days!? If only she could teach him how to fly!

“Did you know I can fly?”

There was no answer, funnily enough. She analysed her arm, and the trails of wires coming out of it, keeping her grounded. On the ground. To the floor. And disabling her wings.

“I can…hold on…” she loosely flung her other wired hand over, pulling the wires out with ease one by one.

It set off a countdown alarm so that she could take off! She was a rocket, blasting off into space to see the stars~

But the elder skeleton was not happy with her revelation, striding over with an almost panicked expression on his face. Was he ever calm?

“What on earth do you think you are you doing? Do not touch that!” he yelled, slamming a hand on the loud big box so it would stop her countdown alarm. Wow, he was really stressed.

“I just wanted to show you I can fly,” Frisk whispered, watching bony fingers fiddle with her wrist again. The wires eventually reappeared on her arm, which was annoying.

She could just take them out again.

So she did, plucking them out while Gaster stood right beside her, quite frankly astonished.

An angry hand smacked her own, yanking both arms far away from each other. A dull ache throbbed from the action. She winced, curling in on herself. “ _Do not_ touch those. I will not tell you again.”

What was so important about them? She scowled, offended by his actions. All she wanted to do was show him her flying powers. She could soar across the sky, in the clouds, then she could see everything and the whole world and…stuff…

Gaster dragged a hand over his face and heavily exhaled, dropping himself onto a stool beside her bed. He looked absolutely drained. A small part of Frisk felt sorry for him. Maybe she should stop being annoying after all.

At that moment, to everyone's (especially Gaster’s) relief, the kind, gentle voice of Toriel was heard entering the lab.

“Hello?” it called out from a distance.

“In here,” Gaster replied; his voice was really…empty.

The figure that accompanied the kindly voice entered the room, spotting Frisk awake and smiling, eagerly plodding after her. “Hello, dear. How are you feeling? Are you in pain? Do you remember anything?”

Frisk blinked at the flurry of questions. Her brain didn’t take a single one of them in. “Hi mama,” she said dreamily instead.

Gaster came to her defence, “The child is under a lot of medication. Do not be surprised if they act…improperly.”

Toriel wandered around the bed to approach Gaster, concern written on her face, but surprisingly it wasn’t directed to Frisk.

“Are you alright? You look very tired. Did you have a bad night?”

There was a low chuckle that sent a pang of dread into Frisk’s stomach.

“I have not slept since the procedure.”

“What?” Toriel’s eyes widened, “That was…three or four days ago! You must be exhausted!”

He sighed, “It is alright. The human—Frisk required a lot of attention.”

“Oh,” Toriel turned to Frisk, and for a moment she wondered whether she had been dreamily joking around for days. “Has she been awake long?”

“No, only today.”

“Then why did she require additional attention?”

Frisk witnessed the scientist’s jaw tighten, “There were multiple times in which the child was on the brink of falling down. I have had to perform multiple resuscitations; my son was not coping. I have sent him to sleep also,” he adjusted his reading glasses and sighed, “It is…alright. I am only tired.”

“Oh!” Shock dominated Toriel’s features, “I am so sorry. I had no idea things were this dire! I would have offered my assistance,” she glanced over the multitudes of beeping monitors around the room, “Please, allow me to take her off your hands and bring her home.”

_How was that gonna work? I’m hooked up to half the electrical supply of the underground._

“That is impossible. She needs to assistance of these aids for at least several days.”

“Then bring them to my house. I will have her stay in bed and…I can phone you if anything changes.”

Frisk didn’t know Gaster very well, but she did know that there was no way in hell he was just going to give someone up like that to someone who quite frankly has no idea what they’re doing.

“I…cannot do that. She must stay here. I apologise.”

“Why not?”

There was a long pause. “I need to stay close by in case anything were to happen.”

“Then stay at our house.”

Another uncomfortably long pause.

“Your sons already live with me, as does Frisk. You can keep an eye on her while staying close by them. In an actual house, not in a laboratory.”

Frisk raised an eyebrow. It was going to be a pretty packed house if he agreed.

“I cannot in any good conscience agree to that. But thank you.”

Toriel sighed, “I insist. _I_ cannot let you stay here like this. You need a home, not a lab.”

Frisk was flat on her back, but she could see the conflicted emotions Gaster was going through and failing to mask, probably from his exhaustion. Or maybe he just didn’t care anymore.

“I…” Gaster paused, running a hand over his face. He looked shattered, as if he himself was going to be the next one to collapse any minute. “Alright. But only temporarily. If it satisfies you and benefits the child.”

Toriel smiled, “Then it’s settled. If you need help moving the equipment, I am sure I can find some willing volunteers.”

Gaster didn’t reply, his head in his hands.

Frisk swallowed hard. This was so unlike him.

Whether for better or for worse, at that moment, Frisk noticed Sans quietly entering the room, probably overhearing the conversation. He stopped at the door, pausing at the sight. Frisk was awake, Toriel was in the room, and _Gaster_ was slumped in a chair with his head in his hands.

Frisk offered him a nervous smile, while Toriel gestured towards his father, who as of yet had to notice his son in the room.

Sans frowned, apprehensively stepping over in front of him and watching for a moment, probably considering what to say.

“hey. you ok?”

Gaster jolted, head whizzing up to look his son in the eye. He straightened himself out, clearing his throat, as if embarrassed to be seen by his son in anything less than a perfect state. “I am alright.”

Sans’ smile faltered, “no you ain’t. i heard what you and tori talked about. it’s fine with me, and i’m sure it’ll be fine with paps. you need a break.”

“Sans is right,” Toriel backed him up, “This is not healthy, for you or for Frisk. If she is in a more comfortable place with her family, it may help her recovery.”

Speaking in science seemed to work, as Gaster nodded absentmindedly and glanced at the child. “I thank you for your help, but I must continue to work now.” he set himself ready to stand up, but Sans put a hand on his knee and forced him back down.

“nope. i’ll do whatever you had to do. now’s your turn to sleep. i’ve had a nice long nap anyways.”

The look on Gaster’s face made it so obvious to everyone around him that he was trying to find an excuse to work, but apparently was too exhausted to come up with anything as his expression just dropped. He stared sullenly at the floor, instead.

Toriel hummed to herself in thought, “I will make arrangements to move the equipment.”

Sans watched his father for a moment longer before nodding in acknowledgement, “there’s assistants in this lab, they can watch the kid while pops sleeps,” he gestured for Gaster to get up, taking a step back. “c’mon, get up.”

Gaster shared an expression of slight annoyance at Sans’ demeaning tone, before striding out of the room before anyone else had a chance to.

Well, at least now he wasn’t allowed to overwork himself anymore.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys hate me yet? xD   
> Believe me, it doesn't stop there.


	4. Chapter 4 - Premonition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus meets a Flower, and it wants something. Subsequently, training with Undyne doesn't go well.

_Toriel hummed to herself in thought, “I will make arrangements to move the equipment.”_

_Sans watched his father for a moment longer, “there’s assistants in this lab, they can watch the kid while pops sleeps,” he gestured for Gaster to get up, taking a step back. “c’mon, get up.”_

_Gaster shared an expression of slight annoyance at Sans’ demeaning tone, before striding out of the room before anyone else had a chance to._

_Well, at least now he wasn’t allowed to overwork himself anymore._

**…**

Lying in bed at home watching TV was the _best decision yet._ It was familiar, comforting and warm, and the same could not be said for the monochrome walls of the lab.

Sans had taken to sleeping on the couch while Gaster took up his room. The sheer exhaustion of the older man came into light when he stated he was going to watch Frisk all day and proceeded to sleep for eleven hours and had yet to show signs of stirring.

Still, the worst was over for Frisk and the only maintenance she needed was the occasional top-up of painkillers. Truth be told, Gaster probably didn’t even need to be here. But if he wasn’t, he'd be working himself ill in the lab making sure the child didn’t suddenly drop dead.

No-one was sure why he had taken up such a protective behaviour when Frisk herself was known to be slightly afraid of him before this all happened. It wasn’t as if they had been friends.

Before long, Papyrus arrived in front of Frisk with a bowl of noodles and... unidentified sauce. He, too, had been eager to watch over her, ensuring she never missed a meal. Or, perhaps, _overfeeding_ her was the proper term. There was good reason to, however.

“Thanks, Papyrus,” she whispered, voice still hoarse.

“You are welcome, human! I do enjoy being your personal chef! Nyeheh!”

Frisk gave a small smile in response, glancing down dizzily at the bowl of noodles. She blinked, tired, unsure if she even had the strength to lift the fork to her mouth.

Eventually she put the bowl back on the side stand and relaxed back into the sofa.

“you gonna eat that?”

Frisk froze, quickly attempting to decipher whether the voice was real or if she imagined it. But to the side she saw the blue blob of a skeleton move, so she assumed so.

“Not right now, not hungry,” she stared off into the distance, her mind half asleep.

“you know, the more you refuse to eat, the more my bro will try to make you food.”

And that was why he was “overfeeding” her.

“I know I'm just...not hungry. I just wanna sleep...”

She felt the sofa cushion budge as the skeleton sat up. “you'll have to eat something eventually. if my old man wakes up and discovers you've had absolutely nothing for the past day he'll go berserk.”

Oh, yeah. There was always that possibility.

“I'm just too tired. Later.” Frisk stated plainly, closing her eyes and ready for her seventh nap of the day.

“im heading over to grillbys later, will bring you back something if you want.”

Frisk kept her eyes shut, nodding. “Yeah, okay.”

She didn’t have to open her eyes to know that Sans was frowning at her.

To her relief, apparently he decided that just an “okay” will do.

The sound of a wooden door swinging open resonated throughout the house, heralding the imminent arrival of the elder scientist.

Sure enough, heavy footsteps traversed behind her, and for a moment she panicked about the untouched plate of food sitting on the stand.

Wordlessly, tall boots came into view in front of her, the creature dropping onto the armchair opposite. He still looked pretty tired, but not as bad as yesterday. His lifeless eyes certainly didn’t reflect the radiant soul that was hidden within.

“heya G,” Sans offered casually, sinking back into the sofa, “feel better?”

Gaster watched him inquisitively, before bowing his head, “Yes, thank you. Although I apologise for not being conscious sooner.”

Sans snorted. “you can’t control your _need for sleep,_ pops. i wish i was able to stay asleep that long. think you set the family record.”

The corners of Gaster's mouth quirked up in amusement, before his focus once again shifted onto the child.

_Damn, I’m not ready to play twenty questions._

He raised the question that she had heard from him a million times before.

“How do you feel?”

Frisk fought back the urge to respond with sarcasm. “Fine,” she put simply, hoping the man would magically gain telepathic powers to know she wanted to be left alone.

To her dismay, Gaster covertly eyed the untouched bowl of noodles and gave her an expectant eyebrow raise, as if to say _well, explain that then._

Well, he definitely wasn’t going to take “I’m not hungry” for an answer so she settled for staring at him instead, until he stopped staring back.

“soo…” fortunately, Sans interrupted the competition, “im ‘bout to grab something to eat at grillbys so that _Frisk here_ can eat something she _likes,”_ he offered, scoring a nice save for the child.

“Yeah…I’m…really excited to finally eat a hamburger again,” she lied; even the thought of the greasy thing made her stomach clench.

“Is that so?” Gaster pondered half-heartedly, clearly not believing a word either of them were saying, “In that case I look forward to your evaluation of the substance.”

“evaluation of the…” Sans scoffed, incredulous, “it’s a _burger_ , G, you don’t evaluate it. we’re not all like you.”

The smug look in return mellowed the possibility that their conversation was malicious. It seems Sans just likes to talk back in jest.

“I am merely curious as to Frisk’s review on the subject.”

_Jeez, is he gonna let this go or what?_

“welp, i’m gonna head out now before it gets busy,” he gave Frisk a shit-eating grin, “have fun kiddo!”

Frisk returned the fiercest, most menacing, petulant expression she could muster.

_Can we just call Alphys to eat the noodles herself and call it a day?_

All three of them shared smug looks, before Sans decided to add a travel companion onto his jaunt to the burger shop. “pap, come with me, please.”

His reasoning was _definitely not_ so that he could get Papyrus back out into the world again. If he wouldn’t go out on his own, perhaps having company would help? Gaster bid him a look of gratitude for the effort, before the response boomed from upstairs.

“Sans, I am busy! Um…washing the dishes! Yes! Because you’re too lazy to do it yourself, lazybones!”

Sans kindly chose not to mention there wasn’t even so much as a _sink_ upstairs before continuing, “oh, ok. guess i’ll have to go there on my own. with no-one to talk to. all alone.”

He knew he was just trying to reclaim his training session with Undyne tomorrow; she kept cancelling it after his anxiety became prominent, but apparently doesn’t have the heart to tell him he’s definitely not ready to be part of a war team.

There was a muffled _‘oh’_ before Papyrus’ face emerged at the top of the stairs. “I suppose I can wait to do it later!”

The eldest brother chuckled broadly, “cool, thanks pap.”

**...**

Grillbys’ atmosphere was a stark different to the tense, almost sombre feeling of being at home. A small part, no, a _large part_ of Sans’ brain urged him to drink his sorrows away. But Pap would catch onto the idea that _he_ was part of the reason why he felt he wanted to—but that’s not to say it was his fault!

The fire elemental was cleaning dishes when he heard the two skeletons walk in. His flames grew taller, brighter, as if to show he was happy to see them.

“Hello, you two,” he acknowledged, his gaze flicking towards Papyrus in curiosity. It wasn’t often Sans’ younger brother was seen in the local pub.

“heya grillbz,” Sans jumped onto the bar stool, taking a deep breath and exhaling.

_Stars, it felt so good to be somewhere else._

“Hello, kind sir! How are you today?” Papyrus’ enthusiasm made Sans smile a little; some of his old personality was shining through. Hope.

“I am very well, thank you Papyrus. What can I get you?”

Papyrus jumped on the stool beside Sans and pretended to think about which foodstuffs he wanted from the extremely wide variety of possibilities there were on menu, a burger or fries.

“Hmm…a burger will do, thank you!”

Grillby turned to Sans.

“heh…the usual.”

The two monsters exchanged glances, and Sans hoped he conveyed the message _i need to talk to you right now but i can’t because my brother is sat on the stool next to me and he’s too innocent to hear what i’m bout to say,_ so offered an unsure grin and shrugged.

The flames on the elemental crackled, clearly trying to deduce what to make of that brief exchange.

In the end though, he walked away. The walls that were once illuminated from the fire creature dulled into brown.

Sans sighed.

_wasn’t so obvious after all._

“ _Sans_ , what _is_ your usual?” Papyrus quizzed in an almost accusational tone. They were in a pub, he probably assumed his _usual_ was twelve pints of alcohol, or the skeleton equivalent of it.

“burg and fries. what else?”

“Ah,” he narrowed his eye sockets, “And what will you have to drink with that?”

Sans grimaced, “uh…ketchup?” he deadpanned.

Papyrus jabbed a finger in his brother’s general direction, “Sometimes I can’t believe you! We need you now more than ever, sober, and you’re…drinking…!?”

Heaving a sigh, Sans leaned an elbow on the table and rest his weary head on it. “won’t drink too much bro, m’ swear.”

Grillby returned at that moment, taken aback by the two’s exchange. Wordlessly, he placed both plates on the bar table, tossing an empty paper bag for good measure for the two to take food home with. Papyrus rarely ever actually ate inside the pub; usually he became too eccentric and forgot it was there.

With that sorted out, Grillby turned to Papyrus attentively. “Papyrus, if I may be so bold as to ask, I am needing some help in the kitchen today as I am running very behind. Would you—”

“Of course I will help!” Papyrus shot up from the seat, completely ignoring his food and already heading straight for the backroom, “It will be a pleasure! I am glad you feel you can ask of assistance from me! Nyeh!” he disappeared through the door.

When said door finished fluttering shut, Sans’ head slid into his hands, heaving a long sigh.

“thanks, grillbz.”

Grillby pushed the ketchup bottle towards him. “No worries, my friend. Something tells me there is a lot on your mind.”

Sans chuckled darkly. _aint that just the truth._

“it’s a long story.”

“Tell me the short version.”

With one hand, Sans grabbed the ketchup bottle and began to scarf down its contents. “well…heheh. my bro is in this weird depressive phase that switches from pure anxiety to being fine for no apparent reason. my pops is practically out the game from exhaustion, and the kiddo is home sick thanks to some weed demon that tried to take their soul. does that explain things?”

The lively blaze from the other creature died down into faint flickering.

_did i tell him too much?_

“I am…sorry to hear that. I am not sure what else I can do, but today’s meal is on me.”

Sans gave a half-supressed laugh. _Wasn’t it always?_

He came into Grillbys nearly everyday and it had become such a habit to put everything on his ‘tab’ despite both monsters knowing he had no intention to pay it. Maybe the elemental was just really sympathetic.

“thanks, grillby.”

At the same moment, Papyrus surfaced after the telling _swoosh_ of the wooden door opening, hitting the walls with a _clank_.

He looked…dazed?

_how the hell do you get confused doing the washing up?_

“Ah, hello again,” Grillby greeted him, which immediately put an end to the secret counsel he and Sans were having, “Did you manage to find everything alright?”

Papyrus seemed to be staring into nothingness for a moment before noticing him. “Oh. Yes! I did! But I have just decided I…want to go home now…nyeh…heh?”

Sans frowned. Poor bro looked nervous. Still, he stuffed Papyrus’ unconsumed food into a paper bag to give to Frisk when they got home.

Out of earshot of his brother, Sans whispered to Grillby, “see what i mean? these random episodes of anxiety. i dunno what triggers them,” he heaves a sigh, snatching up the ketchup bottle and holding it close as if it was his most prized possession, “anyway, better get him home now.”

“Yes…good luck,” Grillbys mutters back, offering a smile of reassurance to Papyrus and taking a step back. Sans only grunts, tucking the bottle in his pocket and gesturing to the door.

“c’mon, pap.”

The two brothers took off from the restaurant and went forth on their way back home.

**...**

**[15 minutes ago]**

If there was one thing Papyrus knew he was good at, it was making himself useful. He jumped at the opportunity to do anything remotely resembling helping out.

So when Grillby brought up “help” followed by “can you” it was the highlight of Papyrus' day.

Doing the dishes...that wasn’t so hard. He did it all the time at home after all!

Carefully, Papyrus placed all the dirty dishes he came across into the dishwasher. All of them. Who could tell if they were already cleaned? Not him. So all of them at once it is.

There was a particularly annoying plate that had decorative leaves stuck to it. He tried wiping them off, but they didn't budge. Was it part of the design? Eventually he wielded a fork, intending to scrape it off.

But the leaf moved.

Taken aback, Papyrus dropped the plate in the sink, frozen in place.

_Was that a hallucination?_

The leaf jumped out and began to expand, moulding and growing until it took on the form of a flower.

_Wowie, I’m dreaming!...When did I fall asleep?_

“Jeez! What’s your problem!?”

The flower talked!

“First you attack me with a fork and then you try to drown me!” the creature wore an affronted expression.

Papyrus blinked. “Nyeh...sorry? I didn’t know flowers could talk!”

The flower glowered at him and looked away.

“What are you doing here anyway? This place is dangerous for a little thing like you!”

“ _I am not little!”_ the innocent flower roared, its eyes turning black and donning an awfully distorted snarl.

Papyrus jumped back in surprise, immediately feeling guilty. “I am sorry...”

The threatening stance of the flower faded away as quickly as it started. “Gee, I'm sorry, too,” his form resumed its angelic-looking cover, “I’ve just had a real tough few days! I lost my...home and my... _c h i l d r e n_.”

“Your...children?” the tall skeleton was bewildered, “I'm really sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“It's okay. I’m just...a defenceless old flower…with no magic left…” it cracked open an eye to see if he was still watching, before continuing, “if left out here...little old me might just... _die_.”

What a conundrum!

“Oh no! What can I do, little-I mean cool flower?”

Cool Flower’s tone shifted into something more ominous, distorted. At Papyrus’ confused expression, it continued, “I just so wish someone was kind enough to save me...” out of the blue, his face contorted into a display of tears! “I don't wanna die!”

Papyrus wasn’t having any of this. “That will be no problem for me! I, the Great Papyrus, will save you, cool flower!” he scooped the poor creature into the palm of his hand.

The flower grinned massively... in sheer delight! It was so easy for Papyrus to make friends!

“Golly, you’re so kind! Thanks!” it expressed with excessive amounts of gratitude, “All I need is to touch your lovely kind soul...and I’ll have just enough left to survive.”

Understandably, Papyrus was a little apprehensive about letting the strange flower near his soul. Didn’t Sans always say to protect it with your life?

Well, he could make an exception for this cool dude. It was only one touch!

“What do I do to help? Do I have to do anything? Or can you do it?”

The flower bounced around in Papyrus’ hand, deliberating over how this exchange was going to work.

“If you show me your soul, I’ll just touch it and stea—absorb some of your magic. Is that ok?” it’s expression was so sweet and pleading, how could he refuse?

“Okay…” he said slowly, hesitantly summoning his soul in front of him. “Just one touch, ok?”

“Sure, friend, _just one touch_.”

Vines multiplied by a dozen from the flower, wrapping themselves around his soul. The innocent expression of the flower’s face deformed and warped into something akin to a demon, cocooning it like a precious treasure.

“Wait! What are you—”

**...**

**...**

“Sans...do you think I'm stupid?”

Jaded legs that had been footslogging at his side drew to a halt.

Apparently, that wasn’t the right question to ask; Sans stopped demolishing his ketchup and gazed at Papyrus uneasily.

“course not bro, why'd ya say that?”

The younger brother faltered, tripping on his words before getting something out, “I just had a feeling,” he dodged cryptically. His eyes began to glaze over; he blinked sluggishly to refocus.

Sans continued his ketchup quest and took another swig- _how wasn’t he out yet?_ “heh, if anything bro, im the dumb one, you're the smart one.”

“That is simply not true, brother! Your vast intellect surpasses most of the underground, but you waste it all on puns and laziness!”

He shrugged, “maybe im just really intelligent in the science of sleeping.”

“At this point you’d better be!!”

They continued their ignorant jaunt for a few minutes longer before the joking glee fell into silence.

Sans heaved a sigh. “pap, what was that back there?”

Papyrus played naive, “Back where? Doing what? Are you talking about my knee pun?”

“no, pap,” he snorted, knowing full well it was a facade, “you know what im on about. you freaked in grillbys and wanted to leave.”

_I hate that he’s so percipient…_

“I suppose I am just really self-conscious lately. You know I don’t like eating in bars.”

He might as well just leave Papyrus alone; he wasn't about to spill the beans on his odd dishwasher hallucination.

“c'mon pap, something triggered it. what gives?”

Papyrus held his breath, “I... just want to go home and not talk about it. Please?”

He waited for his brother to push him again, but to his relief, Sans remained sombrely quiet and only took him through a shortcut back home.

**...**

Being home was difficult. There was such a tense atmosphere no resident could escape from, and quite frankly Sans preferred the overstimulating environment of the local pub than this.

Still, you could count your blessings. According to Toriel, Gaster had remained in his room for the entirety of time Sans and Papyrus were away, writing some unintelligible notes on a clipboard and excessively reading.

And of course…

“glad you’re feeling better, kid,” there was always the fact Frisk was recovery swiftly from their ordeal, except perhaps for feeling a little nauseous when exposed to food.

But that didn’t stop her from wolfing down the gourmet burger. The paper bag had been left crumpled on the opposite end of the couch.

“ _Was good, thanks,”_ she signed, shrivelling back up on the couch.

Sans cocked his head at Frisk's lack of language, “you not speakin?”

She rarely signed at all, which was weird.

_“Tired.”_

“that so?” he grinned, then pointed to an open door leading to her bedroom; sleeping on the couch all day must be uncomfortable as hell. There was a perfectly good bed waiting for her if she could be bothered to move.

“how ‘bout you take a nap _not_ on the couch?”

Frisk pouted, the black circles under her eyes becoming more visible as she shifted from the sofa.

“…you don’t have to if you didn’t want to.”

Frisk only shook her head, mutely toddling over to the open door.

_the hell’s the matter with her?_

For a moment, his distracted mind dredged up not-so-distant memories of the child in a near fallen down state, thanks to that damned flower. And those black and blue bruises, all those injuries…she never spoke of them, but it was obvious what, or _who_ had caused it. Undoubtedly, she had been beaten in a losing battle.

It took some effort to remember she was still recovering from that ordeal, and any concern about why she wasn’t talking one day was misplaced.

There are good days and bad days when healing from an ordeal such as this, and it was ridiculous to discern that one good day would never be followed by a bad day again.

Sans was interrupted from his reverie by the sound of a voice crack, “ _Brother_?”

Alarmed at the uncharacteristically shaky voice, he whirled around. His soul clenched at the genuine fear in Papyrus’ eyes.

Sans rushed to his side, “what? what’s the matter?” he hushed, both brothers trying to stay out of earshot of Gaster residing in the other room.

The younger brother’s hands shook, “I can't see! I can't see anything! It's all hazy and weird and I’m going blind and--"

Sans grabbed Papyrus’ wrist and sat him down on the sofa Frisk was on mere minutes ago.

_what the hell?_

“ok, calm down papy, what's happened?”

“I can’t see!”

_damn. this is another one of those anxiety attacks or what? haven’t had one of **those** in a while…_

“shh,” he hushed, both for his comfort and so that the overprotective dad can’t hear them, “its...its ok,” he murmured, trying to think about what to do. Papyrus on the other hand was frantically hyperventilating. “calm down, you're making it worse.”

“It's all fuzzy and I can't focus!”

“what do you see?”

“I don’t see anything!”

“papy...” Sans inhaled softly, _clearly you’re seeing something if it’s fuzzy._

“I need to...” Papyrus pulled at his red scarf, eyes darting around the room, “Gaster will know what to do...”

_no._

“ _Gaster_ will lock you in your room for three days and experiment on you. that's not an option.”

“But...”

Before Papyrus could freak out even more, Sans pulled him into a tight embrace, leaving him to ramble into his shoulder.

_is this why you freaked out earlier?_

“you're ok,” this was probably just his anxiety reaching its peak, “im sorry i didn't do more.”

The two remained wrapped around each other for a while, Papyrus’ breathing stabilising into something healthier.

He should have known this would happen; the signs were all there after their ‘escape’ from Grillbys.

Papyrus’ breath shuddered as he inhaled, trying hard to get himself under control again. “I'm sorry, brother. I wish...it wasn’t like this.”

“i know. it's not your fault, its ok.”

_it's the damn kid's fault._

“what triggered it this time?”

When Papyrus went rigid in his arms, Sans knew this was something more than a trivial irrational thought.

“I... I can't say...”

“still?” he wouldn’t fess up earlier, either, “you sure?”

His question going unanswered, he took note of Papy’s vacant stare, once vibrant eyes glassy and lost. So, Sans pulled him in tighter and lay there, decidedly until he came out of his absent state...however long that would be...they might be here for a while.

But it doesn’t matter...

_i'll be there this time, i'll make sure of it._

**......**

By some miracle, Sans had managed to get Papyrus to sleep in his racing bed without waking anyone else up, courtesy of the big book of human cooking recipes they were now 4 chapters into.

It was about to hit two o'clock in the morning, and quite frankly his body was filled with useless adrenaline for something he was paranoid of happening. But was it really paranoia if it were very likely Papyrus would become distressed during the night?

If it wasn’t the kid’s incoherent screaming keeping him up, now it was incessant worrying about Pap.

**...** **...**

Training with Undyne the next day proved interesting.

Knowing that he was so obviously displaying signs of stress and anxiety to people close to him, Papyrus _had_ to keep it together, keep it in while with Undyne. At least for the hour, then he could go home. That wasn’t so hard, right? He could easily—

“Hey, idiot, what ya doing hanging around there for!?”

Ah, yes. Rubbish bins were not training dummies. But they were good to look at and relate to.

“Sorry, Undyne, guess I’m just tired…but that won’t stop me today!! Today, I will…defeat…you…?” that wasn’t exclaimed with the utmost confidence, but it’s the thought that counts.

Undyne chuckled, “Papyrus, are you challenging me? Alright!” a spear materialised into her hand—and _oh god I don’t even feel like moving_ …

Without further warning, blue spears skyrocketed towards him, somehow managing to dodge them quite seamlessly with what little strength he had left.

“That’s it! Come and get some!! _NGAH_!!”

The next round of spears were noticeably _larger_ and coming at him at greater speeds with each passing moment.

If they weren’t careful, a spear was going to hit him.

“Can we slow down?” he huffed, dodging another flurry of blue pointy death objects.

Undyne paused for a second, her expression faltering...before picking up the pace again. “Pah! Slow down!? What are you, some kind of _weakling_? Come on!!”

Papyrus jumped to the side as another spear whizzed by, hurtling into the ground and fizzing out into nothingness. It was like playing an extreme version of dodgeball, except if the ball hits you you’re dead.

“Aren’t you gonna fight back?!”

Fight back…? “I will never try to hurt you, Undyne!”

Well, _truth be told_ , this was a _training_ session and he was _supposed_ to hit her. But right now he felt as if any use of his magic at all would….be an issue. He was too tired to use magic at this precise moment.

Undyne wasn’t too impressed, unsurprisingly. “Then I guess I’ll have to _make you_ fight back! _NGAHH!”_ another object tore into his red scarf, sending the cloth floating away into the wind, probably never to be seen again.

He really liked that scarf. Oh well.

In a flash, a blue spear charged directly for him, searing through his ribcage, easily slicing through a rib before sizzling away.  
Papyrus had the luxury of five seconds to process the startled expression on Undyne’s blurry face before his body ultimately dropped like a ragdoll.

“PAPYRUS!” Undyne screamed, grabbing him before he could hit the ground.

This had never happened before. “What the hell! _Papyrus!”_

All of a sudden he was on the floor, staring at Undyne’s panicked red boots rapidly pacing across the ground before ultimately the monster dropped to her knees herself. “Why the hell didn’t you dodge that!?”

Papyrus scowled, world tipping and rolling like a globe spinning on its axis. “Don’t tell Sans,” he muttered, jaw becoming increasingly heavy, “And don’t tell Gaster…I don’t want them to worry.”

Undyne looked horrified, “What? Why not? Papyrus, you’re…” she paused to look him over, “I…”

“ _Please_ ,” he begged, trying his hardest to convey the expression of such, “Don’t tell them…I’m already enough trouble as it is without…this…” he chuckled to himself, “nyeheh.”

_I’m so stupid…_

_Sans was wrong, I’m the dumbest monster in the entire underground._

The sheer unbridled panic in Undyne’s face was enough to make even the darkest of souls feel guilty, but eventually his starved mind took over control, as his view of her face began to vignette at a rapid pace. Her angry-scared rambling turned into white noise as Papyrus’ sockets fell into darkness.

**...** **...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha...sorry again :D


	5. Chapter 5 - Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out...or some of it. People are starting to get suspicious of Papyrus. Something is brewing...

_The sheer unbridled panic in Undyne’s face was enough to make even the darkest of souls feel guilty, but eventually his starved mind took over control, as his view of her face began to vignette at a rapid pace. Her angry-scared rambling turned into white noise as Papyrus’ sockets fell into darkness._

**...** **...** **...** **...** **...**

**.........**

“Hey, idiot,” was the first thing Papyrus heard when his drowsy mind surfaced from the darkness. “You back with us?”

Apparently, judging by the soft comfy object he was laying on, he had managed to teleport from the duelling grounds to Undyne's sofa.

Groaning, Papyrus cracked open his eyes, wincing at Undyne’s figure having suddenly appeared above him, an arm outstretched. Glancing down, a snack bar was grasped inside the blue fist.

“What...?” he squinted, dazed, snatching it from her hand and inspecting it.

“Eat it. Come on.” There was a harsh edge to her voice, as if suppressing frustration.

Why was she angry?

“ _Papyrus_ ,” the fish creature exclaimed, stepping even closer and jostling her fist, “You need to get your HP back up.”

Papyrus blinked sluggishly, bringing the bar to his mouth and nibbling slightly.

HP...? Why did it need increasing? He was already really strong, right?

“Is it so I can be as strong as you?” Maybe it was to help him get into the royal guard?

Undyne sighed, looking around the room exasperated before an eye fell back onto him.

“You don’t remember? Man, you really are a bonehead,” she gave him a playful noogie, much to his dismay.

“Don’t noogie the skeleton!” he chortled, wriggling out of her grasp before the adrenaline faded. He released a long sigh.

_Wowie, I’m so tired..._

“You completely depleted your magic,” Undyne cut the cap and was staring at him thoughtfully, a look of worry differentiated from the angered expression she wore earlier. “It screwed with your stats and... I could've killed you.”

_Oh. Wow._

No wonder she looked crestfallen.

“Just...don’t use it anytime soon, okay?”

Papyrus watched her, feeling half bemused and half guilty.

He messed up _big time._

“Umm...did you tell my brother?” he wasn’t _here_ at least, but maybe if she panic called him…

“Nah,” she grinned, “You told me not to. ‘sides, if he found out I hurt you, I'd be _dead where I stand_.”

The skeleton smiled uneasily, apologetic, “That was my fault, I should have dodged better.”

She frowned, “Yeah, about that, why didn't you?”

“I suppose I got distracted,” Papyrus lied, taking another bite from the snack bar; he could practically feel his health climbing again.

“Distracted by _what_?” Undyne dropped her shoulders, seating herself next to him, “Is someone hurting you? Is that why your HP is so low?” her eyes burned with the desire for revenge, but Papyrus couldn’t offer anything. Or for lack of a better word, _wouldn’t._

But telling _anyone_ about that flower was completely out of the question. He had to protect them at all costs, even if the cost was himself.

Decisively, Papyrus remained silent at Undyne’s frankly _invasive_ question; his fingers wrapped tightly around his brown trouser leg. Observant eyes drilled into him, demanding a response.

“If you won’t tell anyone else, at least tell me,” she pressed. His fingers tightened even more, eyes looking fixatedly at the floor.

“I can’t,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his own heart was beginning to race again, “Please, stop asking me that.”

Undyne blew out a soft sigh, “Papyrus—”

“ _I said stop asking me!”_ he shouted on a whim. With a gasp, he regret his hostility immediately after.

Undyne gawked at him, “What?” she froze, narrowing her eyes. “Alright, alright! Geez. You’re usually really open about this kinda stuff.”

_Stars, am I really that awful of a person…?_

“I’m…I’m sorry,” unable to stop it, his eyes swam with tears, attempting to pull himself together as he splay his hands over his kneecaps, “I don’t know…”

His friend cocked her head in confusion, running an arm around his shoulder in a kindly gesture, “Hey, it’s alright. I just want you to be safe, you know that, right?”

“Yeah…”

A genuine smile spread amongst her features, “Well, I won’t push…but if someone really is hurting you, then you can tell me. I’ll beat their ass!”

Papyrus weakly returned the smile. “Yes…thank you, Undyne.” She was always so violent, but somehow still remained very cool!

“Then how about we get you home? If you stay here any longer your brother might just come looking for you anyways.”

That was true. Papyrus began to stand up from the sofa as he spoke, “How long have I been here?”

Rubbing a hand at the back of her head, Undyne pursed her lips, shrugging her lengthy coat on, “I don’t know, couple of hours?” and that wasn’t even including the time he had been out training.

“Wowie. I suppose I really should…” he paused, watching Undyne nonchalantly putting her coat on, “Why are you coming with me? I know my way from here back to Snowdin!”

A hesitant grin replaced her thoughtful expression, “I just want to watch out for ya, Pap! C’mon, let’s get moving!!”

There was no stopping the unrelenting sense of dread that pooled into his stomach, ripping away any feeling of serenity that he still had. But a façade could only last so long before the cracks begin to slip through. So, he reluctantly made a move towards the fish house’s door.

**...**

Harsh sapphire blue illuminated from the waters of the dark waterfall caves, enveloping the glossy black rocks and surrounding plant life. It’s rippling lights bounced from the river and lit up the path back home to Snowdin. It was almost tempting to touch the glowing liquid; somehow it was always more beautiful at night, despite being underground.

Perhaps it had something to do with the barrier reopening?

Alas, Undyne brought Papyrus back to his current nightmare. “Right, well I guess you can find your way from here. Don’t want your brother to see me walking you back, yeah?”

Inwardly, he was glad his friend was being this accommodating; he must have really worried her. Well, that can’t go on!

“Thanks, Undyne. Absolutely would have got lost without you being here…nyeheh.”

“Nah, c’mon!” she ruffled Papyrus playfully and trapped him into a tight hug, “You’ll be fine without me! Go home and see your brother!”

He wore a strained smile, “Yeah…I’ll do that.”

“Just…promise me something, Papyrus.” Her tone shifted to that of something darker.

“Yes?”

“I know something is wrong.” That fixated glare made Papyrus suppress nervous laughter. “If something like this happens again…call me.”

“Call you?”

“Yeah. I know you won’t tell Sans, Toriel, Alphys, Gaster, or anyone else for that matter. You’ll suffer in silence until whatever it is kills you. Judging by today I know I’m not wrong.”

“Nyeh…heh...I…”

“No, don’t try to change my mind, Papyrus. I know what you’re like, but nothing like this has ever happened until recently. So, from now on, if you’re in trouble, call me.”

Naturally, the tall skeleton wasn’t sure how to depart after that entire ordeal knowing Undyne would be constantly watching him from now on. So, he turned his back on her, marching off in the other direction.

It felt rude, insensitive even, after what she’d done to keep him safe. But alas, he wasn’t sure just how much longer he could keep himself together for.

**...**

Slamming the front door shut behind him, Papyrus stumbled into the skelebros living room, relieved to see no-one yet in sight. No-one _waiting_ for him, which means he got away with his extended trip to Undyne’s house.

Good, no questions. He could work with this. Act normal. That’s not hard.

Not hard at all.

Right…?

_This is going to be hard…_

“heya pap,” his brother unfortunately sauntered into the room, dressing gown sagging across the floor having obviously just woken up. “was wondering when you’d get back.”

_Oh no._

“Hello brother!” Papyrus forced with as much optimism as he could, “Sorry, I spent some time with Undyne at her house, we’re best friends!”

Sans snorted, “oh yeah? sure you are. you had fun?”

It was impossible to tell whether he was being sarcastic. After all, during the past few weeks, or perhaps even _months,_ spending time around other people had been a no-go.

And the hint of suspicion on his brother's face was all telling.

“We talked about...how strong I am and had some snacks!”

Technically, that wasn't a lie.

“that's cool. you _are_ strong after all.”

“I am! Very strong!! Stronger than you!!”

“uh huh.”

“It’s true!”

“i know.”

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

Sans trudged over, hitting him lightly on the shoulder, “because you've got something to hide.”

“I’ve not!” Papyrus cried, subconsciously moving to touch his spear-inflicted wound but thinking better of it, hands jolting away.

“c'mon, papy,” he sighed, collapsing onto the sofa, “this has gone on long enough. you're never out this late, _please_ just talk to me!”

“There's nothing to talk about!” Papyrus backed away from the sofa towards the wall, “You're being paranoid!”

“pap!” Sans was getting upset now, “talk to me, damn it!”

**“ _NO!”_**

****

_...silence..._

Both brothers stared at each other; Sans was in awe.

“wow. ok.”

Papyrus hastily crept over to him, “Brother, _I’m so sorry...”_

“nah, it’s fine,” a hurt expression plastered Sans face, “you don’t trust me. i get that.”

“No! Don’t say that! You know I don’t mean anything by it, I’m just…I don’t want to talk about it!”

A deep-set scowl etched across Sans’ face. He was likely trying to form an argument, all of which won’t go anywhere judging by Papyrus’ resistance to admitting the truth. And it seems he knew that.

“papyrus,” Sans breathed, shuffling closer to the trembling body, “i don’t understand.” No other words formed, but only those were needed to voice his unease.

_I can’t tell him…_

_If I do, that will make me an awful brother…he will be in danger because of my selfishness…_

_At least, that’s what the flower said…_

“pap?”

A gut-wrenching sob tore through Papyrus’ chest, causing him to clap a hand over his mouth. Without hesitation, an arm wrapped around his torso, pulling him into Sans’ embrace and keeping him there.

_No! Don’t show anything. I’ve managed to hold it back so far…_

He exhaled heavily through his nose; this _can’t_ spiral out of control again. Just focus on how warm Sans’ hoodie is…

But the tears burned as water crept from his eye sockets. Hunched over the sofa, he stared fervently down at his feet, frantic to avoid Sans’ gaze. His brother was _definitely_ ogling him with godforsaken pity on his face.

“you have to tell me something, bro. i’ve got nothing.”

Papyrus snivelled; his body wracked with another tremor as he inhaled a shuddery breath.

“I just…” he began, but another tremor overtook him and left his entire body trembling.

“shh. it’s ok. talk to me. in your own time.”

Eventually, he decided focusing intensely on his hands was distraction enough, “I…do you ever feel like…you’ve got yourself wound up about something that isn’t really that bad? Or…that it’s…over nothing…and you’re worrying people for no reason…”

“yeah. but i’m sure it’s not nothing,” Sans mumbled into his shoulder, “in fact, i _know_ it’s not nothing, or we wouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t think you’d get it, brother…”

To his surprise, Sans merely snorted, “bro, i’ve been depressed for as long as i can remember. course i get it.”

Papyrus decided to take the plunge.

“I got hurt when I was training with Undyne.”

He sharply inhaled, squeezing his eyes shut and regretting the confession immediately.

Silence overtook his elder brother, a firmer grasp around his torso, before relaxing again.

“ok.”

Okay. Alright. His brother knew now.

It was out there.

There was no hiding it anymore.

He never _ever_ got hurt when training, and now this…? This was something Sans could dwell on for a while.

“how bad?”

Papyrus held back a disbelieving laugh.

_Oh, I got impaled in the chest, my magic was all but nothing and I nearly fell down._

“Not too bad.”

“…heh.”

Sans didn’t believe him.

“if it wasn’t _too bad_ you wouldn’t be this upset about it.”

“Well, it’s not just that! There’s—”

_No. No! Don’t tell him about the flower. Don’t!_

“what?”

“Nothing.”

“no, what? what is it?”

Papyrus watched as his hands began to tremble again, heart pounding in his throat. “Not now, _please_. This was enough,” he pleaded, his head spinning as the world began to blur.

_I’ve already said enough._

It was just then he realised he couldn’t catch his breath.

Shaky fingers grasped his brother’s hoodie at the same instant he tried and failed to ground himself. Adrenaline surged through his body, tension growing and gnawing at his bones. The world around him became a hurricane, desperately sawing in breaths because he _wasn’t breathing,_ _couldn’t breathe,_ and _oh god this is just like when the flower held my soul…_

He was none the wiser of the arms that had been wrapped around his body receding. Instead, he was vaguely aware of being pushed onto his back, but it felt like he was sinking through the sofa.

“hey. hey! pap! bro! breathe! jeez, bro, c’mon, look at me! what’s wrong?”

Papyrus grew bug-eyed whilst attempting to form a sentence, but his mouth was numb and unable to create speech. Terrified hands erratically flew around his body, struggling to latch onto something to stop himself from _falling._ The room wouldn’t stop _spinning._

A bony hand slipped into his, the tight grip becoming his grounding mechanism.

“oh man, did i set this off? god damn it.”

_No. No! This wasn’t his fault!_

He desperately shook his head to put across his point that no, it wasn’t Sans’ fault and in fact, Papyrus was to blame for everything, he’s a horrible brother and he’s too much of a burden and he deserved this and—

“it’s not your fault pap,” Oh, did he say his thoughts out loud?

“you’re ok. slow down. jeez. just…i won’t ask anymore, ok? just calm down.”

Papyrus shook his head hysterically, a hand frenetically waving in circles as he tried uselessly to point at his chest to signify he couldn’t breathe.

_That flower…_

_Took my soul…_

_I have no magic left…_

_I’m gonna die…_

“yeah, yeah, i know,” caring hands traced over his own, attempting to calm them, “it’s just a panic attack, remember? it’s happened before. you’re fine.”

Despite the reassuring words, the horrid circling thoughts in Papyrus’ mind continued to ramp up. Sans’ pitying expression didn’t help. Evidently he was just as clueless as Papyrus. He was almost _annoyed_ with himself for being unable to stop it.

As nothing seemed to get him to stop, he threw an arm over his face to try stifle his rapid breathing, bony fingers clawing around his thick red scarf.

In his haze, a burning sensation came from his chest, and for a moment he wondered if his lungs had finally exploded. But after forcing himself to focus, a bright white orb had surfaced outside his body, and mentally he made the connection.

_Sans summoned my soul._

_Oh no…_

_Now he’ll know._

At least he apparently still had one.

The expression his brother wore shifted from confusion, to fury, to grief in a matter of seconds. And if this weren’t the most unexpected thing that happened today, he then shouted for someone Papyrus thought Sans would never get help from in a million years.

His voice were thick and shaky with emotion, managing to resonate throughout the entire house, and possibly waking up everyone within a twenty-mile radius.

There was a telling _SLAM_ of a door being thrown open, and for a moment Papyrus wondered just what on earth Sans had yelled to receive such a reaction.

The floating white soul still shone radiantly above him, but even with his blurry vision it seemed…different. How annoying that his eyes refused to focus on it.

Moments later, the blurred figure of a cloaked silhouette appeared in the boundaries of his vision, an expression of sheer worry on his face that mirrored his brother’s.

_Have I done something wrong? …Again?_

He was still breathing frantically—maybe he had to stop breathing? Would that make them feel better?

_Stars…I’m so tired…_

And his eyelids were _so heavy._

Still…

A gentle tug on the shoulder momentarily jumped him back into reality for a second, but once more the world became a blurry mess just as quickly. His eyes began to drift shut, to the dismay of the outsiders that were frantically shouting at him. The pale glow of his soul slipped through the seams of his eyelids until there was total blackness.

_Stop shouting at me…_

_Can’t I sleep?_

_Am I not allowed this, either…?_

He didn’t bother to investigate further; he welcome the wallowing darkness.

**...**

“You are to blame for this.”

Gaster summoned an orange healing orb and directed it to sit inside Papyrus’ soul. A disconcerting number of cracks had formed onto the surface, it's faint glow dimming and enlightening intermittently like a faulty lightbulb. “If you had just been honest with me...”

“be honest about _what?”_ Sans bit back. The majority of his brother's torso had been resting limp over his lap. “he didn't say anything until just now!”

“But you noticed he was withdrawn, quiet, not himself even. No?”

_sometimes I really hate that damned..._

“yeah. nothing to gossip about though.”

“And yet, look where that got us.”

Sans scowled at the man’s attitude, “ok, i didn’t bother to ask if his soul had been smashed to smithereens, so shoot me,” he avoided gazing down at his brother, the mere sight of him unconscious made him queasy. “can we do something _now?”_

An inquisitive eyebrow shot up; the other man assumingly concurred with the suggestion, humming to himself thoughtfully. “I am doing so now. It will take some time, but this seems to be a more advanced stage of what happened with the human child.”

Why didn’t _he_ make that connection?

“In any case, we will not know more until Papyrus awakens,” this was an unwanted reminder of the state of his brother laying in his lap beneath him, “Assuming this is the same infliction as the human soul, I will apply similar methods for now.”

Numerous hands materialised into the air of thick unease, obeying their leader’s commands and descending upon Papyrus’ body. At once, they collectively began working on his soul.

He hated seeing his brother defenceless like this.

“so when will he wake up?”

“If I am correct, it was not his soul that caused his unconsciousness.”

Sans blinked.

“It was only a…catalyst.”

“…to what?”

“His absurd…panicking caused unconsciousness from hyperventilation. The state his soul is in only worsened matters, but it is not the trigger.”

Sans finally allowed himself to gaze down at his brother. It was really a pitiful sight, and one that he really couldn’t help but blame himself for. How many chances did he have to spot that something wrong? Even the way Papyrus wanted to suddenly leave Grillbys in a rush, _that_ was the biggest red flag there was.

And yet, Sans had put it all down to just being anxious. Because of his negligence, his brother was now in a catatonic state.

_can i get any worse?_

_i shouldn’t even have the right to call him my brother…my best friend._

Soon he was brought out of his trance by Gaster, “Who was he with earlier today? The royal guard, correct?”

He nodded, “yeah, undyne. training session or something…oh.”

“Oh?”

“forgot to say, he impaled himself.”

There was a mock silence.

“…What?”

Sans shrugged, “pap told me he got injured during training, maybe undyne will have some info or something.” He was already digging into his hoodie pockets for the mobile phone.

“I cannot believe you did not bother to mention this, Sans.” Skilful hands drifted above Papyrus’ torso, this time his own pair. Pulling back the white shirt had revealed a crack across his upper ribs.

_no wonder he had low HP._

Telephone numbers had become like muscle memory to Sans; he dialled the number with haste.

As was expected of the zealous creature, Undyne picked up immediately, to everyone’s relief. Before she could get a word in, Sans began, “heya bud. it’s me. listen, no time to chat, pap’s in trouble and we need your help.”

“Papyrus is…oh man…has his wound re—” she paused, stopped herself, stumbling on words as she spluttered, “I-I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about! But I’ll still try to help!”

Sans snorted, “listen fish lady, pap told me everything, i know he got injured with you earlier.”

The reply was immediate, “I swear I didn’t hurt him on purpose, and I thought I—”

“i don’t care. look, he's in a pretty bad way and we don’t have a clue what’s going on, did he tell you anything? anything at all?”

“Uhh…” hesitant silence filled the radio waves of air, “He didn’t say much, but there was definitely something, ‘cause he kept telling me to stop asking him.”

“uh huh,” he shrugged towards Gaster, who had an eye on him for answers, “what'd you hurt him with?”

“Ah...uhh...a spear.”

“a spear,” he repeated, dumbfounded and concurrently relaying the information back to Gaster with a nod.

The injured bone healed itself with ease thanks to the help of a delicate hand carrying healing magic over it. In fact, Papyrus released a breath he had been holding in his sleep.

“that must've hurt,” Sans mumbled, gently tugging the shirt back down again. "not like him to get that badly hurt."

“Yeah...it's almost like he's...traumatised or something. It's really weird.”

"hmm...ok" the last thing in the universe that he wanted right now was for his brother to be _traumatised_ by something. Could his panic attacks be hiding something deeper?

Holding the phone however was getting a little achy on the arms. It was no doubt nothing compared to what Papyrus was feeling though. How very selfish of him. “im gonna go. let me know if you remember anything else.”

“Alright. Good luck.”

“yeah.”

_Click._

He turned to Gaster.

“well, that was useless.”

**...**

_Ow._

_Oww._

_Ouch._

_What on earth..._

Upon resurfacing to reality, the first thing Papyrus noticed was the constant burn in his chest. Like grasping an ice cube until it hurt.

**_…Ow._ **

Except now there was a deep-rooted burning in his ribcage.

_Where am I?_

_Why can’t I see?_

It felt strangely okay to not be able to see. There was no panic.

Despite wanting to understand his surroundings, Papyrus’ eyelids remained welded shut, possibly never to open again.

He took in a sharp breath, his fingers curiously scratching the surface he lay on. Somehow, he expected the hard surface of a metal table, and yet...it was soft?

Thin material slipped through his fingers, creating a comforting feathery ball of fluff in his fists.

In his haze, a noise boomed out, “Try not to get upset. You are alright.”

A voice! But where from? And what did they mean?

To his confusion, a faint white light shimmered into existence, and gave every indication of being a hallucinated figment of his imagination.

It couldn’t be real; his eyes were closed…right?

And the rising feeling of nausea that bubbled in his fictitious stomach, that couldn’t be real either, because—

Spontaneously, his body recoiled and abruptly wrenched him onto his side, the remainder of the room promptly becoming more visible. His eyes were _definitely_ open now.

Distantly, his bewildered brain took notice of the hand that was fixed firmly onto his torso. Mindful of this, he glowered intensely at the charcoal ground that refused to stop swimming in circles.

“What’s happening?” he almost choked, the sheer action of speech was enough to make his shattered body creep onto the verge of passing out again.

Despite knowledge that there was a real hand firmly keeping him from falling off the side of the bed, there was no response from the creature that owned it.

Several deep breaths later, the whirlwind of a floor stopped spinning, his senses gradually returning to their normal state. With a great huff, Papyrus forced his unwilling body to turn onto his back again, releasing a long sigh once he landed there safely.

Once again, a dim white light materialised from the corner of his eye socket. Now that his thoughts were becoming somewhat rational again, he was able to determine that aforementioned light was actually his _soul_. It seemed…dimmer than he remembered.

And it wasn’t inside his ribcage, where it should be. Someone was messing with it, which explained the burning sensation.

But, perhaps his mind wasn’t as rational as first thought.

_Have I been kidnapped?_

Fight or flight response kicking in, his previously exhausted body became charged with adrenaline. Hurtling up from his reclined position, Papyrus frantically sought for an escape before the room could even stop spinning.

A heavy sigh of complaint resounded from behind, which definitely confirmed there _was_ someone in the room with him. The room that was, in fact, _an evil chamber,_ and not his cosy bedroom.

It started again. Every breath he took began to shallow into shorter and more desperate breaths, panic surging through him as sudden footsteps echoed closer. As the world once again became a hurricane, Papyrus’ legs wobbled and nearly collapsed as he tried to see _anything_ through the flurry of blurred images and his own rapid breathing.

 _How did they get to me?!_ he demanded of himself, his own inner voice icy with fear.

_When I was asleep? Or maybe it’s…the flower!_

“ _Get away from me!”_ his scream came out nothing more than a muffled jumble of words, his mouth numb with fear.

The silhouette of a man morphed into view, but he remained at a distance.

Good! Papyrus was very powerful, and he would demolish that flower if ever it tried to come near him again!

…maybe?

Probably not…

But still!!

Hands messily drifted over anything that looked like it even remotely resembled an object, picking it up and hurtling it across the room towards the figure.

_I need to get out of here._

Frantic eyes analysed the area for an escape route, but his stupid brain wouldn’t focus on anything. _Couldn’t_ focus on anything.

As another gasp sawed in. Papyrus wheezed, clutching the hem of his chest like a lifeline, backing against the cold metallic wall for support.

When the distorted silhouette in front of him edged closer, something deep inside him stirred— _protect yourself,_ his instincts insisted.

So, in the very depths of his person, Papyrus summoned some blue magic. Blue bones fizzled into life in front of him. Clearly, this was an excellent idea as the opponent in front of him seemed to mirror his panic, shouting at him in words his mind was too detached to understand.

The opponent must have felt threatened, as he edged even closer.

_Get. Away. From Me._

Numerous blue bones materialised between them, forming a long, unsteady line sandwiched between himself and the enemy.

The burning in his chest increased tenfold, thanks to the overpowering hyperventilating he couldn’t seem to control.

A long piece of blue cable emerged in the hands of the enemy, obviously with the intent to capture Papyrus.

But he was frozen in icy fear, motionless and trapped against the wall. Although, the creature wouldn’t be able to go any further if he surrounded himself with magic attacks.

He managed to witness four more bones appear submerged through the ground, before the burning feeling quickly transformed into intense, searing, white hot _agony._

With a strangled cry, he clutched the cotton of his shirt, finding himself on the floor seconds later.

He didn’t know what he had done, but it hurt _so bad._

All attempts of being the cool and collected Papyrus went out the window as the agony didn’t _stop,_ his skull colliding with the cold ground which almost brought some _relief_. Papyrus couldn’t stop the wailing screech that left his throat, _god make it stop make it stop make it stop oh my stars make it stop please make it stop—_

In the distance he observed the enemy running around the room, obviously trying to find ways to keep him in the vulnerable position on the floor Papyrus found himself in, and it was _his fault._

When the creature finally ran up to him, his fictitious heart sank into the stomach that was currently on fire.

This was it.

His death…

Well, he could be pathetic and beg for mercy.

Besides…everyone could be good, right?

“ _Please…”_ he wheezed, his legs automatically trying to move but couldn’t, “ _I can’t die…I won’t…this already…hurts…is this…not enough?”_ he had no idea what he was saying, but the enemy—no, the creature that _could_ be nice, dropped all the tools he had accumulated around the room in front of him.

 _“I don’t know…who you…are…but…”_ he took a deep breath, the creature somehow managing to manifest his soul into the air judging by the white orb that fizzled into life. “ _…believe…you can…be good…I…”_ he was definitely going to take his soul, “…believe…in…you…”

His pleading for mercy apparently fell on deaf ears, as the creature plunged something into the floating white orb. The entire room went white. Not only was the creature going to kill him, but he was trying to cause him even _more_ pain. How was someone so hideous?

How could someone like this exist?

Vaguely, he felt a hand grasp his shoulder. It felt…familiar? But it was comforting. He wasn’t trying to dislocate his arm in any case.

Eventually the whiteness subsided, and the bleak room came into view.

The creature was towering from above, staring sullenly at him.

It was just then that his mind made the connection.

This wasn’t a horrible creature sent to kill him.

It was…his father.

_Oh._

_How did I…not…?_

He blinked up at him, dazed.

What do you even _say_ after doing all that?

The sound that came out of the man’s mouth was slow, discerning.

“Papyrus.”

It was almost as if he was waiting for a coherent reply. That wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. “Can you hear me now?”

He nodded.

“Do you know who I am?”

He nodded again.

Relief flooded the other man’s features. “Alright. Do not move. Don’t…do anything.” his eyes had an unfamiliar tinge of fear in them. It was unnerving. “Do you understand? Do not move, under any circumstance.”

“Okay,” he answered meekly.

What had he done…?

“I will be right back.”

Gaster stood, strode away immediately and with intent.

A sense of dread filled his stomach.

_Stars…what have I done?_

_He wasn’t trying to hurt me…_

_If anything I’ve hurt myself._

_…And possibly hurt him._

Forcing himself to focus, Gaster seemed to be on the phone to someone, rapidly switching between staring intently at him and a screen.

Delicately and slowly, Papyrus lifted a heavy hand to his chest.

 _Stars,_ it _hurt._

How do you mess up this badly?

It wasn’t long before the man returned, equipped with a set of three hands. He gestured towards him, and before he knew it, Papyrus was floating.

He very much wanted to say something like _wowie, you can make things fly?_ But now really wasn’t the time to say it, and neither could he gather the will to with the pain in his chest. So he settled with floating around in the air and the awkward silence that complements it.

It was eerie. Being manhandled around the room wordlessly after such a colossal fallout. Papyrus wasn’t sure if he upset or angered the other man, but apparently he had chosen to remain silent. Who knew the kind of thoughts that were circulating in his head?

Various tables, tools and equipment were either scattered across the room or upturned from his assumption that Gaster was the enemy and had tried tossing things at him.

Ultimately though, he was back laying on the bed he was situated on before he had decided to sabotage the place.

“Your brother is coming.” The silence finally broke by the other man’s voice. Papyrus jumped, not expecting to hear anything from him so soon. Shouldn’t he hate him now?

“Okay,” he replied again, seemingly incapable responding with anything else at the moment.

But still, it would be nice to finally see a friendly face within the current hell he was immersed in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you liked this video SMASH that like button oh wait this isnt youtube


	6. Chapter 6  - Inner Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus decides to talk about his inner demons to his family, but is it too late?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh. It begins to get juicy from now. Hope you enjoy !! <33

_Various tables, tools and equipment were either scattered across the room or upturned from his assumption that Gaster was the enemy and had tried tossing things at him._

_“Your brother is coming.” The silence finally broke by the other man’s voice. Papyrus jumped._

_“Okay,” he replied again, seemingly incapable responding with anything else at the moment._

_Still, it would be nice to finally see a friendly face within the current hell he was immersed in._

_**.....** _

People always assume that blackness creeps up on you gradually, like a gentle blanket when one lulls themselves off to sleep.

But there was nothing here, not for Papyrus. It was an empty, hollow void that starved him of his senses. It was almost as if existence itself was a merciful lie, created to distract you from the lonesomeness of the dark.

But the most confusing thing was… how did he get here? And how do you get out?

Presumably, one would come to such a deadly place armed with an escape plan; not as if anyone would even _want_ to come here, but Papyrus didn't have that luxury.

A delicate tickle to the foot pulled him out of his thoughts, an emerald vine twisting around his ankles.

Despite the threat of eternal nothingness, ivy leaves inconspicuously began to sprout from the ground, as if the void were its own personal garden greenhouse.

At the back of his mind, Papyrus _knew_ he should be feeling something about the foliage. But that was ridiculous!

Surely he was going crazy.

Muddy roots began to ascend from the darkness, twisting and wrapping itself around his legs in an almost taunting manner.

At his lack of response, a yellow sunflower-looking creature sprung from the shrubbery, a face growing onto its centre.

His brain made the connection.

_Oh._

“It’s you,” he breathed, taking a careful step back. How was he here?

“Ahh, it feels so different to be detached from a soul,” the flower snarled, it's features distorted. “You're taking ages to die. What gives?”

Oh, right. Yes. He was dying. How could you forget about that?

More the point… if he was dying, why was he in the void?

Unless…

“Am I already dead?” he questioned, wincing at the heaviness of those words.

The golden flower dramatically shook its head, “Nope! Not yet, anyway…” Papyrus exhaled a sigh of relief, watching as the flower rustled its leaves in thought. “You’re in a coma though. Which is why you’re stuck in here with me.”

His eyes widened, “A coma?!”

“Yep. We’re stuck in your soul’s consciousness right now.”

“My soul’s…”

_What!?_

“Golly! Are you stupid or what?” it’s face contorted into something creepily hideous, “You used up the rest of your magic supply. Which is annoying, because that means I have nothing left to feed on to keep me here!

The flower had been in his soul the _whole time? Feeding_ on him?

Papyrus was speechless at the new epiphany. He knew he allowed it to take _some_ of his magic, but he had no idea it had been draining it for the past few days! Which explained why he was getting hurt so easily…

Ultimately, he could either let the flower die, and he dies too, or he survives, but so does the flower.

“What if I die?”

It chuckled darkly, “If you die before me, then I get to keep your soul. Your body will dust, but I get to manifest a new one. _My_ one. Just before your soul cracks,” it grinned widely while it yearned, “I have just enough determination to keep it from cracking. That’s long enough for me to find a way to replenish the missing magic.” This demented flower was getting more and more excited by the minute.

He frowned, “But how…do you plan…on getting more magic?” Papyrus found himself kneeling in front of the flower, which was an odd turn of events.

Talking to the creature that had been torturing him for days on end wasn’t how he planned to finish this, but it seemed really sad. Like it wanted to live. Desperate to live. Perhaps it wasn’t pure evil…

The flower craned its head, “Boy…I don’t know. I didn’t think I’d get this far…but I did, thanks to you!”

Papyrus wasn’t sure whether to be offended or say, _‘you’re welcome’._

At the same moment, the skeleton found his ribcage beginning to glow a chalky white, shimmering to the point of becoming a faint torch in the hollow void.

“Oh.” The flower seemed to be a mix of disappointed and surprised. “Looks like your dad found a way to save you.”

Soon, the darkness began to shift, the glow in his chest melting with the black until it wholly encompassed his vision. The void vanished suddenly, as if the entire experience was a dream. Before long, his senses were sharply reawakening, until he found himself taking a desperate sharp gasp.

He was no longer in the abyss, but back in the land of the living. Reality.

Rocketing upright from his incline, Papyrus clawed at his chest, struggling for a breath as if he had just awoken right in the midst of another panic attack. The red scarf he was so accustomed to clinging onto was gone, which sent nervous eyes observing his surroundings for it.

Papyrus nearly jumped as a large hand landed flat on his collar bone, roughly shoving him back down on the soft surface he had found himself awakening on seconds before. It took a while for his mind to process that Gaster was in the room with him.

The hiss of white noise filled his ears and refused to settle down into something a touch more bearable. In the meantime, the man looming over him rapidly began to sign to him.

_“Do not move. Dangerous.”_

Well, Papyrus was already well aware of _that._

It continued with a one worded question, “ _Pain?”_

He shook his head.

The feature’s on the man’s face contorted with confusion, _“Lying?”_

He shook his head again. Really, he was in no pain…should he be? Wasn’t he manipulating his soul earlier, before he plunged into the seven depths of nonsensical hell?

His mouth struggled to form words with the numb, tingly, wishy-washy feeling set into his jaw, but Papyrus tried anyway. “Where’s Sans?”

Wasn’t he supposed to be here? Didn’t Gaster say he was coming?

Something in the other’s man eyes sparked, a memory rippling through him.

The hands moved slowly, delicately, _“He is asleep.”_

“Asleep?” It was getting easier to speak now, the world gradually seeming firmer. And so came the low droning ambience of the machinery-packed room, beeping away as it monitors his vitals. It was an unwanted relentless reminder of his condition.

Contemplative fingers began to move, but hesitated in mid-air, evidently seeking to rephrase whatever he was about to say, which was never a good sign.

Regardless, Gaster must have noticed the slow return of Papyrus’ senses, as he tried talking instead. It must be easier over signing.

“You completely depleted your magic reserves. Not even regular injections of such would restore you to any point beyond a near fallen down state.” He explained, not even attempting to fabricate the situation.

“Fortunately, your brother has a rather excessive magic reserve, and had enough to save you. He is fine but recuperating.”

Gaster must have saw the worry in his face, because he then added, “Do not worry, I have been watching him closely.”

Bewildered, Papyrus could only offer a faint nod of acknowledgement.

It was _his_ fault. Not only did he nearly fall down, but his own brother almost did too. All because Papyrus had been selfish.

But _was_ it selfish?

_I was only trying to protect my family…_

“Papyrus?”

His eyes shot up, wincing at the cold stare that he was met with.

“Something troubling you?”

_Now I can’t even hide my emotions…_

“I…”

_Just pretend you’re okay._

“I’m fine!” he forced a smile, shuffling away further and further up the bed, “I’m fine, I…”

The look of disbelief he received in return really made what was left of his enthusiasm dissolve.

Defeated, he dropped his head, shoving his skull into the pillow to hide his face.

Inwardly, he knew that his current act of cowardice was just _screaming_ something was wrong.

But what’s the point?

_…Wowie, I’m becoming more and more like my brother every day._

To his surprise, his body bobbed slightly as the bed dipped from the extra weight of another man sitting on the edge.

He chose not to move. He knew what was coming.

After a few more moments of tense silence and contemplation, a hand landed on his shoulder.

There was an urge to pull away, but that would be rude.

“Papyrus,” the voice proclaimed again, the grip on his shoulder intensifying, “If today is anything to go by, I know something is wrong. I am not stupid.”

Papyrus chose not to respond.

“I fear if today’s event repeats, you really will fall down. And there will be nothing I can do about it. I am not losing a son.”

At those words, Papyrus tried his best to muffle a despairing whimper into the soft pillow. In this position, at least Gaster wouldn’t be able to see the tears burning his eye sockets. Although he could probably guess…

“I talked to Sans,” Gaster began, the somewhat comforting hand lifted from his shoulder. “He said you became injured training with Undyne. But I cannot fathom as to why; this has never happened before.”

Gaster could keep talking, but Papyrus was never going to give him an answer.

“He also said that your anxiety attacks have become more frequent. Not only this, but you once told him you couldn’t _see.”_

Something in him wanted to easily push that one aside by saying _that’s just normal, it was an anxiety attack!_ But that would grant him a response, and that couldn’t happen.

“What caused it in the first place?”

Papyrus stiffened.

_Oh._

_Oh no he’s noticed._

_Oh no no no no no—_

Like clockwork, as his breathing quickened, the hand returned to his shoulder, moderately firmer this time.

“Relax. I am not blaming you. I would just like to understand. To fix it.”

_You can’t fix it._

_Stop trying._

_Stop…_

His breath hitched in his throat.

_Not again…not again please…not now…not now…I’ll lose more magic—I’ll die—I’ll die—I’ll die and—_

He didn’t realise he was beginning to say this out loud.

_I’ll die—my fault—my fault—my fault—my…fault…_

The bed creaked as the other man stood up, likely to leave him alone to suffer because he was being pathetic and stupid and should definitely die—when did he get like this? Why couldn’t he be happy and—puzzles? Puzzles?

Puzzles?

Why can’t he go back to that? To just…that…and not…this…

All of a sudden, his vision went white.

_No. No I’m dying. I’m dying. I…_

“pap? pap it’s me. i’m here.” the voice he had _longed_ to hear again broke through his mental walls, his lucidity deteriorating once more at the realisation he was back. “i’m right here bud, it’s alright, look, see? it’s me.”

Looks like Gaster sent Sans to deal with him because he couldn’t tolerate being in the same room as stupid Papyrus.

“ _Brother_ ,” he breathed, tilting his head away from being face-down into the pillow, and onto his side. His brother was right there—and looked absolutely exhausted. Drained. Then he remembered. “I’m so sorry!” he wept, wishing his brother didn’t use his magic to save him—what if he died instead? He deserved it. It should have been him…

Sans exhaled softly, taking the younger skeleton and holding him close, “it’s alright. none of this is your fault.”

“But it is! I nearly killed you, brother!”

“no, that’s not on you. there’s a reason you’re like this, and whatever it is…it means you’re not to blame.” Upon closer inspection, his eyelights were beginning to dim and become unfocused. Early indications that he was becoming emotional.

“But…” Papyrus on the other hand found himself spiralling, his chest cramping up, “It is! I let the flower in! I was just trying to be nice and look where it got me!” The floodgates finally opened, “I let it in, and it took my magic and I keep losing it and I keep freaking out and I can’t get it out and I nearly killed you and…”

He froze up at the expression on his brother’s face, with the addition of Gaster’s, who had stopped what he was doing at the light of his sudden confession. Two pairs of eyes locked onto him like magnets.

“the flower took your magic?” Sans dragged him out of his reverie, “small yellow thing?”

He nodded woefully.

“huh.”

Papyrus watched nervously as Gaster lightly nudged Sans out the way to get to him.

Memories of Sans’ warning from the last time he wanted to seek help from the scientist flooded back to him.

_gaster will lock you in your room for three days and experiment on you. that's not an option._

A familiar fight-or-flight response was beginning to kick in.

The other man seemed to notice, backing up slightly but didn’t avert his gaze. Sans’ eyelights hastily switched between watching Papyrus and Gaster, trying to decipher what was going on.

Eventually, Gaster broke the silence. “When you say you couldn’t see. What were you experiencing?” he put simply.

Papyrus blinked, battling between his own panic and the urge to actually respond. “Uh…I…just…felt…” he took a deep breath, “Really dizzy. Black. Chest burning. But it was just the usual…anxiety…”

Gaster frowned, “No.”

Both younger skeletons gazed up at him.

“No?”

“no?”

The scientist sighed, “I presume the creature was endeavouring to drain your soul or take control at these times. But the symptoms were masked by your anxiety and inadvertently triggered as much, making you the perfect victim.”

Papyrus was only vaguely paying attention to what he was saying, and was more inclined to look at Sans, who’s eyes had narrowed to slits.

But it was best not to leave the scientist unanswered. “Oh. OK.”

Gaster continued, “Perhaps now we have a better idea as to--"

“uhh…hey pops?” Sans interrupts, eyelights dissolving from his sockets until they were dark and empty. His small shaky frame was slumped against the wall. “feelin’…kinda…”

**_CRASH._ **

There was a black blur as Gaster rushed to kneel to the floor; the place Sans was presently lifeless on.

_Oh no no no..._

“Sans?” Gaster demanded, shaking him tenderly.

_No no no... anyone but him..._

_Don’t take my brother away from me..._

But as the seconds passed, he remained unresponsive.

“ _Do something!_ ” Papyrus yelled, sitting up to get out of bed.

Gaster spun around, “Do not move! Stay where you are!” his focus immediately returned to the small skeleton, cradling his head. A hand hovered over a shaky pale soul.

“Magic exertion. Again.” he confirmed, “It’s alright.”

Papyrus released a sigh of relief.

_Thank the stars._

Heaven knows what Gaster was currently feeling, having both of his sons on the brink of falling down. If _one_ weren’t about to die it was the _other_ one. It was going to be a struggle to keep an eye on them both.

Carrying Sans slumped in his arms out of the room, Gaster demanded of Papyrus, “Don’t move.”

He gave a small worried whine in response.

_**.....** _

Upon his next awakening, Sans’ magic reserves felt _so_ much better. So much more…stable. Despite being insanely tired. You could almost mistake the room for being his own bedroom, lying on his own comfy bed, with nothing to worry about…but the continuous monotone beeping and various other noises sounding at seemingly random times which really ruined the immersion.

Not to mention the distant, muffled murmuring he heard, of which would occasionally be followed up by ceaseless keyboard tapping sounds. Though the consistent beeping was starting to increase in pace, which made the voice log reportage in the background cease.

He was so focused on the rhythmic beeping; Sans almost fell asleep again. Until a voice that was _way_ too close for his liking resounded into his ear.

“Are you awake now?”

He groaned. So _loud._ “yeah. thanks to you.”

That was intended to be sarcastic for waking him up, but it almost sounded grateful…

_lets pretend I meant that._

“You’re doing better, I see.”

“mmmm…” intelligent words were lost on him, too tired (or lazy) to come up with anything else.

“Tired?”

“mmhm…” he grumbled again with extra frustration.

“Open your eyes.”

“…no.”

“Sans.”

“no.”

There was a long pause. The atmosphere was high-strung as the defiant skeleton waited for what Gaster had to say about his little inner sulk.

_actually, how long have i been here for?_

_feels like longer than a few hours, at least._

“If you don’t do as I say I’ll open them for you.”

_there he is._

“fine,” he reluctantly cracked open tired eyes and gave him the most petulant stare possible for the small skeleton. The other, taller skeleton ignored him.

Sans had a minute to take in his surroundings. As expected, it wasn’t his house, or his room. He was still in the confines of the lab.

Which meant…

“where’s papyrus?”

The other man’s features softened, his glasses slightly tipped as he studied a notepad. “Still asleep. But recovering.”

“uhh…” come to think of it, he felt as if he had been asleep for longer than a few hours, “how long have i been here?”

“About two days.”

His eyes widened, “two _days?_ two _fuc_ —”

“Yes.”

“how the hell did i not _wake up?”_

On a normal night he would been waking up every couple of hours! He must have been absolutely drained.

“Probably due to the fact I kept you both asleep. Your brother needs longer.”

Sans’ face hardened, “you…”

Wow. He _kept_ them asleep? How screwed up in the head can you get?

“what the hell? you didn’t think to ask? that’s messed up, g.”

“Why would I need your permission?” Gaster seemed genuinely perplexed.

“because, _dad,_ ” Sans expressed sardonically, “we’re not your…you can’t just…” he struggled to find the words in the midst of his shock and outrage, “because it’s _wrong?_ ”

If there was ever a time Gaster’s stoic expression were to change into something more emotive, it was now.

“ _Wrong?”_ he accentuated, fury burning in his eyes.

_oh god. now i’ve upset him._

“I have just spent two days pulling the both of you back from the brink of falling down. Papyrus is…not well.”

Sans’ stomach sank at the way he hesitantly expressed his brother’s condition.

“I do not understand _what_ exactly he’s done to himself, but _something_ is determined to drain his magic and no matter how many injections I give him, even of my own magic, it will drain again hours later.” The man was almost breathless. Clearly during the past few days he had overexerted himself, physically and emotionally.

Now he felt bad for being an ass about it.

“I am at a loss. Currently he is on a constant supply of magic. If I woke him now he will likely dust within minutes. And you are telling me sedating him to keep him alive was _wrong?”_

_ok, maybe i used the wrong words._

“You, however… your magic has adapted and has replenished twice as fast, which does not surprise me. You make up in magic what you don’t have in health points. But your brother…”

_has a lot of health and lacks magic reserves. but no magic means no health. yeah, i know._

“i know. i’m sorry. i didn’t realise.”

Gaster’s hard stare almost made him squirm. He had a lot to say but still had some integrity left to stop himself from saying it.

“I do not know what warped idea of me you have in your head, but I do not appreciate your behaviour.”

“i know...”

“Do you wish to insult me again?”

“nah...”

“Good. Then go to sleep.”

Funnily enough, Sans couldn’t find it in him to say anything else.

_**.....** _

If the room was dark before, if was definitely pitch black now. Sans had played the safe game and waited until Gaster had supposedly forgotten about him long enough to not notice if he crept out the door.

There was no way in hell he was just going to take another nap after his recent revelation. He _had_ to check on Papyrus, and screw if he got caught.

What was he, _five?_

Silently and meticulously, Sans swung himself out of bed, ensuring not to set off any of the nearby alarms.

Actually...they would go off once he left the room, wouldn’t they? Being so far away would cause them to disconnect.

Right, number one priority was safely disengaging the monitors.

The displays continued to beep mockingly at him, while Sans internally pondered how he was going to get out of this.

One wire ran right into his soul, while the other four just seems to be obtrusively clipped onto various ribs.

Perhaps it was possible to switch them all off at once?

_might be better if i just turned off the monitors. that way i don’t risk the alarms sounding when i unclip the many invasive devices G has lying around._

Sans bounced off the bed, the cold hard ground biting his feet on impact like ice.

Carefully, he reached around the back of the first monitor, his fingers searching around the metal for anything that remotely resembled a switch of some sort.

A bony phalange struck gold, immediately pressing enough force onto it until he felt the telling _click_ of the off switch.

The screen zapped to black instantly. Sans froze, expecting the worst. An alarm, the sound of a door slamming, anything.

But nothing happened.

_phew._

With a hesitant sigh of relief, the rebellious skeleton moved onto the next and last monitor, which held all the wires wrapped around his ribcage.

This monitor seemed to follow the same design; or more than likely was the same model. So, with ease, an angsty finger flipped the switch to _off,_ and once again he was rewarded with silence.

_i am so smart._

He spared no haste ripping all the wires out of his body, leaving them to unceremoniously drop onto the floor in a heap.

_have fun untangling that._

Now that was out the way, Sans slipped on the pink fluffy slippers that were left neatly by the door, which were nice and _warm_ and such a welcoming feel against the cold marble ground.

Finally, he found himself tiptoeing down the hallway, halfway successful in his mission towards finding Papyrus.

If this was Gaster’s lab, which it probably was, then Sans knew this place like the back of his hand. Gaster had probably kept them both close together due to their unfortunate conditions and needing constant attention, so Papyrus couldn’t be far.

And judging by the soft haze of blue light illuminating from the room two doors down the hallway, he was right.

Upon peering around the door and into the room, for a split-second he fretted over the possibility that Gaster was already in there. But it was dark and empty, barring the blue glow of monitors surrounding the room. The same rhythmic beeping sounded from the devices, with a newly added warning drone coming from elsewhere in the room.

Curious, Sans strode over to the first screen in a single step, observing the output.

His HP seemed to be in the clear, or at least that wasn’t the stat that was exhibited in bold red letters. On the other hand, his magic output was ludicrously low, flashing big bold and red with the numbers “3/100” and didn’t seem to be increasing at all judging by the flat graph.

Heavily sighing, Sans forced himself to look away from the distressing screen and went to see his brother for himself.

To his relief, Papyrus seemed to be mostly relaxed and pain-free; or at least that was what the sedative appeared to be doing. His face was completely blank, body lifeless and tucked up under a blanket. Outwardly, he looked to be in such a perilous condition, no thanks to his motionless form with the addition of wires trailing across the floor.

Sans gently touched his brother’s shoulder, unsure of what to do from here, or what he even _wanted_. It was obvious from Gaster’s distress that he wasn’t safe by any means, so what was the point of seeking him out? Did he think he was lying? Or maybe he didn’t want to believe it until he saw it?

Maybe…maybe Sans just wanted to remind himself that Papyrus was still _alive._

Well, now he has. And it was horrible. A memory that no doubt would stick with him for the rest of his life. Stuff nightmares were made of.

“i’m so sorry.” he murmured, trailing a hand under a glowing blue wire. It was likely carrying the constant supply of magic Gaster was talking about. “i wish i wasn’t such a crap brother. i wish i noticed this sooner. god…” he gazed over at Papyrus’ slack face again, his breath shaky with grief. “ _i’m so sorry…”_

_**.....** _

Sometime amongst his grieving and pain, Sans had apparently managed to fall back asleep again over Papyrus' sleeping form.

His neck creaked as he lifted himself up, groaning at the ache that had set deep into his bones.

There was more light now, signifying that he had slept through the rest of the night. But not long enough that Gaster had entered the room, because Sans hadn't been shouted at for leaving his room yet.

Maybe, just maybe if he was quiet and fast enough, he could get back there without being noticed.

“Brother?”

Well, that put an end to _those_ thoughts.

Sans froze, speculating the possibility he was in fact _dreaming,_ before turning around.

But it rang true. Papyrus’ eyelights were visible, _proving_ he was conscious.

“pap. bro,” he ushered to his side, running eyes over the monitors. His magic output had increased to 14/100.

_oh, thank the stars he’s finally improving._

“Sans...” there was such confusion in those tired features, his gaze never leaving his own, “What happened?”

_how the hell do i explain this?_

“i...you...uh...” he stuttered, then shook his head, “no, it doesn’t matter. are you ok?”

It was a stupid question, but could still help, nonetheless.

“I think so? I just don’t remember why I’m here...”

...Wait a second.

_shouldn't he be sedated?_

“uhh,” Sans glanced over to the monitors, all displaying indications that Papyrus was still in a coma. “this is really weird.”

Papyrus frowned, “What is?”

“pops put you to sleep. you shouldn't even be awake right now.”

“Oh.” He blinked slowly, as if about to drift off again. “Weird...”

_wait._

_didn't gaster say if Papyrus was awake for even a few minutes, he'd dust?_

Getting caught suddenly didn’t matter.

Alarmed, Sans abandoned his post by the bed and ran towards the door, leaving a dumbfounded Papyrus staring after him.

“Brother...?”

Sans got as far as the door before a blue bone abruptly tore through his back, and out the other side of his chest.

He gazed up at Papyrus, magic leaking through his fingers as a blank expression covered his stunned face, “huh.”

And crumpled to the ground.

Sans ogled the bone protruding through his chest, finding himself gaping above at the empty sockets of Papyrus.

Wheezing, he shrieked in desperation, “ ** _gaster!”,_** vaguely aware of the monitors attached to Papyrus dangling on the ground were now flashing red and blaring. “ ** _dad!’_**

There was the sound of a door slamming before Gaster was suddenly in front of him, visibly shaken up and panic-stricken at the sight in front of him. The blue bone had settled into a solid state, sticking out of Sans’ ribs as if it were one of his own but ten times larger and piercing into the ground.

Once again, both his sons were on the brink of falling down, and he could only choose to save one.

“Papyrus,” the man tried, hesitantly armed and hiding what was likely to be a syringe full of sedative behind his back. “Stand down. Sit down.”

There was no recognition in his brother’s eyes. Empty and predatorial sockets locked onto Sans despite Gaster standing between them.

“Papyrus, I said _stand down!”_ he asserted, which caused nothing more than a momentary confused blink before he shifted back into a fierce defensive growl.

Blue magic bled from the frail inverted orb, seeping through the slashes of his blue jacket and dripping onto the floor.

Gawking at the sight of his own magic bleeding out, Sans was to some degree wondering if he would ever wake up again. Ultimately his head lulled to the side as his grip on the world diminished into nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is reintroducing Grillby (for real this time). Yay! :D


	7. Chapter 7 - Fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A grievously injured Sans tries to come to terms with some news, while the gang try to figure out a way to save them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to upload this until Saturday but I couldnt wait! I'm quite proud of how this turned out. Idk if anyone still reads this but if you do...hi! :D
> 
> Also please note, Sans starts excessively swearing at some point in this chapter (for good reason).

_“Papyrus, I said stand down!” Gaster asserted, which caused nothing more than a momentary confused blink before he shifted back into a fierce defensive growl._

_Blue magic bled from the frail inverted pale orb, seeping through the slashes of his blue jacket and dripping onto the floor._

_Ultimately his head lulled to the side as his grip on the world diminished into nothing._

**_....._ **

Gaster was wildly conflicted between saving the son bleeding out on the floor in front of him or the one towering over his victim like a merciless predator, who was also about to dust if they were not sleeping again within minutes. All of this exertion no doubt drained Papyrus’ already dwindling magic tenfold.

Sans’ eyes were feral, like a deer caught in headlights, staring at death in the face. The two brothers continued watching each other, both frightened animals ready to attack, yet unmoving.

For a moment, Gaster was going to decide that this was the perfect time to intervene or attempt to protect Sans in some way. But before he could even take a step towards him, the small skeleton suddenly vanished into thin air, as if his presence were an illusion.

Gaster’s paranoid mind freaked out a little, fleetingly brushing over the belief that Sans had dusted right in front of him. Due to the lack of dust and situation they were in, it seemed he had panic-teleported away. The only thing that remained was the large bone that had hit him still submerged through the floor.

On one hand, that was great. Now he was away from whatever it was Papyrus was experiencing. On the other…he likely had used the last of his magic and no doubt had reappeared absolutely anywhere in a fallen down state.

He tried not to think about that.

Now, however, his main priority was Papyrus.

Fortuitously, it seemed Sans’ disappearance had shook him enough to keep him still, his mind still trying to comprehend what just happened.

Gaster slowly made strides towards him, prepared to defend himself if necessary. “Papyrus. I will not tell you again. Sit down.”

The other skeleton didn’t reply. In fact, he seemed to be trembling. Not exactly a new sight.

“Did…did I kill my brother…?”

Ah. So he assumed Sans dusted also.

“No. He has only teleported to get away. Though I fear you have grievously injured him, and we have no suggestion as to where he has gone.”

“I…” Papyrus precariously stared down at his hands, eyes shrunk back to pinpricks, “What did I do…?”

“I believe it was the beast attempting to take control again. Or in this case, he succeeded.” Gaster took another step closer, his hands gently grazed his shoulder, “Sit down, Papyrus. Please.”

“I killed my brother.” he whispered, seemingly impervious of Gaster’s plead to stop expending magic. Well, the item currently in his hand was made to remedy situations like these.

“I didn’t…I didn’t mean to…” Papyrus remained motionless and appeared to be in unwarranted shock, which made it easier for Gaster to maneuverer him towards the bed without needing to resort to further measures. Wordlessly, he pushed upon his son’s shoulders until he crumpled onto the mattress, eyes still vacant in disbelief. Shaky limbs were now unceremoniously twisted at an odd angle on the bed, clearly not very lucid having yet to notice the uncomfortable position. As Papyrus continued to mumble small nothings about how he had supposedly killed his brother, the elder skeleton began to unravel him until his limbs were nice and straight, not at risk of getting achy.

Satisfied, Gaster silently pulled a chair beside him, emptying the contents of a tranquilizer into an IV line that was now precariously close to snapping having been twisted around in circles.

“Sans has not dusted, he has only teleported,” he attempted to explain again, knowing it would fall onto deaf ears. Focused fingers worked to untangle the various tubes, readjusting his glasses as he spoke. “You did not kill him.”

“I killed him didn’t I?”

“You did not. Relax.”

“I saw him disappear...”

“He teleported.”

“I saw...” Papyrus’ foggy eyes fluttered shut, his breathing evening out to slow, deep breaths as the sedative crept into his system. “Saw...”

Gaster’s hand settled firmly on Papyrus’ collarbone as he watched him drift off.

**_....._ **

“Are you drunk?”

“He’s definitely drunk.”

“Jeez.”

It was impossible to focus on the floating figures in front of him, spreading white lies about his drinking habits, whispering and gossiping about it to each other—it wasn’t true, the last time he had ketchup was over a day…ago…

_...ok._

The last thing Sans remembered was cowering up at his younger brother, empty eyes predatorial and determined to kill the insect recoiling below him. A sight he had never seen before and hopes he never will have to see again.

And then there was a flash, and he was gone. Now…he was surrounded by people who thought he was drunk.

Why would they think that? Clearly he wasn’t inside anymore. Not in his house. Must be in public…

Oh, yeah. There was that bone that went right through his stomach.

Looking down, he noted it wasn’t there anymore. Despite this, his then bright blue coat was now soaked through with a mixture of dark blue and red, some of it still dripping onto his hands. Distantly he wondered how he was still alive; whatever that creature was inside Papyrus, it wanted him dead for sure.

_well, sorry to disappoint._

Clutching his chest, a waft of delicious smells passed through him, and for a moment Sans wondered if he was imagining things again because _damn, that smells too good to be true._

But as his mind made the connection of the smell to _food,_ food to _public,_ he then realised he must be around the general area of Grillbys.

_i teleported away and ended up at grillbys?_

_…nice._

Ignoring the distorted, warped looks of disgusted onlookers, Sans forced his legs to move and stride onwards towards the large wooden door, the image of it seared onto his brain from the amount of times he’s come face to face with it.

A trembling bony hand grasped numbly on the doorknob, fumbling around trying to get _the damned thing to open!_ His limbs were lethargic and refused to work, as was demonstrated by his trouble opening a stupid door.

Eventually he felt the presence of someone brush past him, their own hand grasping the doorknob with ease and kneeing it open. Did he do it for himself, or for him? Who knew, but the door was open and that’s what counts.

Despite this new accomplishment, he was rewarded with absolute sensory overload. Suddenly the sounds and smells and sights of Grillby’s interior were overwhelming and almost choking. He heard the door slam shut behind him, eliciting a jump as he whipped his head back in surprise. The sound of a chair scraping against wood made his head thrash back again towards the source, the action making him sick with dizziness.

Sans stumbled back against the wall, hands desperately trying to find something to hold onto with only the brick wall to save him. Staring at his feet, he noticed the dark blue was still dripping onto the wooden floor, he knees wobbling with imminent collapse. A gargled cough found its way up his throat, spilling more blue stuffs onto the burnt orange floor.

Forcing himself to glance up, to focus enough to find _something_ he can lie down on, Sans locked onto the familiar sight of burning in the distance. His dreary eyes focused, noticing Grillby in conversation with another monster, who actually turned around and pointed directly at him.

Sans gulped, expecting to be yelled at for bleeding all over the floors and ruining the atmosphere of the room. The elemental took one look at him, his head shooting back to the monster beside him and gesturing with urgency, before making longs strides—almost _running_ towards Sans’ general direction. The other patrons saw him coming and moved out of his way.

His mind was a befuddled fuzzy mess, and glancingly he took fright thinking he was about to get attacked again. There wasn’t much he could do except back further up against the wall, but clearly the expression on his face must have shown something as Grillby came to a sudden halt and tilted his head.

Was he saying something? Perhaps. Not like it mattered though, he couldn’t focus long enough to stop the liquid spluttering out of his mouth again, much to the surprised gasps of everyone in the immediate radius of him.

With that, his legs buckled, mentally preparing for his face to hit the hard-wooden ground, but instead he fell into something soft. A hand clapped onto his back, steadying him, a warmth rushing over his body.

“Alright, back away!” he heard a voice that sounded really distant, like _really really_ distant, coming from a million miles away…

Curious chattering from the other guests grew quieter, and for a moment Sans wondered if they had ever been real in the first place. He noticed his eyes were shut, _when did he shut them?_ The other patrons were still there but were floating away…

_oh, i’m being carried. thanks brain._

Well, being carried means you’re safe. Unless you’re being kidnapped.

_am i being taken hostage?_

He blinked.

_i don’t really care right now._

Finally, he heard a door slam shut, groaning in displeasure as the elemental lay him down someplace. If anything, the loud noises had finally stopped, blocked off by closed doors. The man rushed about the room, his fire high and crackling with unkept panic, before relaxing when he pulled out a white box. He slugged it over beside Sans, shrugging off his black coat and, for some reason, started screwing it into a ball.

While doing so, he knelt over him, stuffing the ball-of-coat over Sans’ sternum.

“What happened?” he asked breathlessly, hovering a healing orange hand over his ribcage, “Did you get attacked?”

Sans nodded, “my bro.” he croaked out nonchalantly.

The response was flame fuelled eyes widening in shock, before turning to the white box that was slung beside them.

_oh, yeah. grillbz is a war veteran._

_good idea to come here then._

_maybe i’m more lucid than I thought._

With one hand, the man skilfully flicked open the box, revealing a hefty supply of tools to help Sans to possibly not bleed out and die. The other hand remained stiff, firmly pressed onto his sternum.

“I need to staunch the bleeding. Do you have enough strength to hold this down?” he gestured towards the hand stuffing the coat onto his ribs.

Sans wasn’t sure but nodded anyway—they’d find out soon enough. He weakly whipped a hand over Grillby’s, taking his place in holding the cloth down. The other man quickly stripped off the white gloves that had been used for handling food, quickly slipping on new ones.

“Why did Papyrus attack you?”

He shrugged, wincing as something sharp entered his ribcage and consequently his soul. After a few seconds, the burning increased tenfold and showed no signs of stopping. Sans hissed through gritted teeth, squeezing his eyes shut and groaning.

“I’m sorry. I know it hurts,” Grillby mellowed, doing his best to get it done with as quickly as possible, “Whatever he did, it appears like it wasn’t an accident. It pierced your soul.”

Sans forced a nod. “…m’know.”

The talking suddenly stopped there. There was a quiet sigh followed by throat-clearing.

“Are you aware of your magic deficit?”

“…y-yeah…”

A long pause filled the air between them, one that was only full of agonising pain. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to come here. Maybe he should have tried his luck dying in the snow outside.

Forcing an eye open, Sans gazed at the monitoring device currently being pressed to his ribcage. Well, he was about to get the shock of his life. Probably the lowest magic range in the entirety of the underground right now and still somehow lived to tell the tale.

Evidently by the several beeps of repeated scans followed by a shaky exhale, he was right. Grillby ran a hand over his face, immediately throwing the rest of the tools aside and jumping up in urgency. The phone was hastily snatched up, dialling in a number as if it was a speed competition.

Exasperated, Sans sighed heavily and readjusted the grip on the cloth.

“Dr Gaster? It is Grillby, I’m with your son at my restaurant. You need to come here right now.”

Sans’ eyes flew up in alarm— _no way._ Firstly, he was not dying in front of his family, and secondly…he didn’t want the burden of worrying him to be on his conscience.

“hey, grillbz, just wait a sec—”

“You knew he was in this state? Why on earth was he wandering around outside--? He—? What? He teleported? Because…oh. I see. I suppose that makes sense.”

Sans shut his eyes. _Here we go._

“I’m unsure how he has stayed conscious for this long, but we need to get him to an overground hospital. No, I’m not joking. No, I’m not giving him back to you if you won’t listen to me! No—do not start raising your voice with me, I am trying to help him!”

_jeez. cool it off._

“If you won’t then I will. I’m taking him to a hospital right n—”

A flash of blue, and the figure of his father was suddenly in the same room as him.

“ _You were saying?”_

_oh boy_.

_this is not going to end well._

If there was one thing Gaster was overly protective of, it was his family.

Grillby stood in front of Sans in a protective stance, “You do not scare me, doctor. I’m one of the few people who are not.”

“You do not understand the situation,” Gaster was saying, advancing closer to him in a threatening manner, “Only I and I alone am able to fix this.”

“And how is that working out for you? Look at him, Gaster! He needs help!”

_damn, this is awkward…_

“Are you insinuating I am incapable of looking after my children?”

“No, not at all. But he needs treatment, more than what you can provide.”

“I am quite capable; my other son is in my care also.”

“… _Both_ of your children are in this state?!” the question was uncharacteristically roared across the room. Sans cringed.

Gaster apparently couldn’t find an answer.

“I am sorry, but I am getting help.” Grillby made a move towards the phone again, only for Gaster’s hand to slap it out of his.

“Stop. Cease this ludicrous argument. I know what I am doing.”

Grillby sighed harshly, his flames flickering with more ferocity than Sans had ever seen. He decided to ignore the other man, making his way back over to Sans. Unfortunately, he got about an arm’s reach away before the all-telling sound of a blasters firing up resounded from behind them. Sans could only offer him an apologetic look while Grillby pinched his eyes shut in exasperation.

“Get away from him.”

There was a beat of silence.

“No.”

Sans tensed, ready for a gaster blaster to come firing in his general direction.

“I will not ask you again. Get away from him.”

“I am not fighting with you. We don’t have to do this, not in front of your son. This is for him, isn’t it?”

Gaster rarely ever lost his temper. Not like this. This was so rare, and almost scary. Especially if it was because of him.

After a moment's hesitation, the blasters vanished into the air, the blue in his eyes fading back to white. Somehow, the red eye was unaccounted for, but perhaps he was being merciful despite his angered state.

“What’s this really about?”

“It’s about you letting my son die because you will not let me near him.”

“No, you’re never like this, not for all the years I’ve known you. What is it? I already presume it is something serious?”

“It isn’t about anything.”

“You’re really protective of him.”

“Is that not normal?”

“It’s almost as if you believe that this is your fault.”

_god, don’t say that to him, grillbz._

“ _T h i s i s n o t m y f a u l t.”_

_shit. just back away grillbz. just back away..._

“…I know. I’m sorry. I just want him to be safe.” Grillby backed down.

Gaster looked to be vacant, his expression blank. “…He is safe with me.”

“Why won’t you just let him go to a hospital?”

“Because he needs to stay in my care.”

“ _Why?”_

**_“Because I have already failed once before!”_ **

That shut everyone in the room up.

Sans nearly choked. “…what?”

Gaster’s eyes flicked from fury to dread upon realising Sans was still in room. He remained speechless, only staring at his son.

He tried again, voice quivering, “what? what do you mean you’ve failed before?”

“Sans…” Gaster’s voice was hollow. “Papyrus has fallen down.”

………the world suddenly went cold.

“…what.”

Those words…felt like a knife had been plunged through his heart twenty times over.

“what…?”

“The episode with you earlier. The attack on you. It was the last straw.”

Sans felt he was going to throw up. His stomach clenched with sickness.

“you…he…what…” and with that, he did. He didn’t even try to stop it. The hand holding the cloth to his sternum dropped, writhing as he vomited over his side.

Grillby gathered his senses and at once strolled over to him, kneeling down and reclaiming his position holding the wound down with his scrunched-up coat. The other hand landed on his back.

“It’s…it’s alright,” he murmured to him, keeping his firm grip despite the rest of his body feeling like jelly, “He’ll find a way to save him. He always does. It’s alright.”

Sans shook his head in disbelief, sitting up and wriggling to get away, “no, i want to see him. i want to see him _now!”_

Both men suddenly jumped to him, aware of the wound becoming loose, “Stay still!” Gaster demanded, shoving him onto his back and taking over holding-down-cloth-on-sternum duties.

Sans continued to struggle while the two men held him still, “ _get the hell off of me!_ where the hell is pap? how could you do this? you promised! you fucking _promised!”_

Grillby was well aware of the blue seeping onto Gaster’s arm. “Sans, I am sorry, but you need to stay still. You’ve aggravated your wound.”

“i don’t give a shit!” a blaster suddenly powered up behind them, his eye turning blue, “take me to him now! or…i’ll do it myself!”

_teleporting again would kill me but i don’t freaking care anymore._

“Sans, calm down.” Gaster uttered firmly, trying his best to hold the little skeleton down but it seemed an extraordinary amount of strength had suddenly resurfaced within him.

“calm down!? **_you_ _killed my brother!”_**

Both men leapt out the way just in time for a blaster to fire on them, hitting the wall and leaving a scorched hole. Freeing Sans from their clutches, his wound was now unprotected and pumping out pure magic from the sudden use. Throwing his head back, he screamed in pain, squirming and struggling to grab the injury himself.

“Grillby, there is an item in my pocket. Get it for me now,” Gaster urged ambiguously, returning to his side and summoning an army of six hands to hold the frenetic skeleton down. A hand slammed down on the oozing wound. Grillby dug his hand in Gaster’s pocket.

 _“fuck off!”_ Sans screamed, kicking and shouting to get free from the numerous hands so he could save his brother, “get off me or i’ll fucking kill you!”

He was unsure how exactly he was going to kill the most powerful monster in the underground, let alone his father, but the threat was worth a try.

Finding the item, Grillby stuffed the syringe in Gaster’s free hand and gazed apologetically at Sans. Clearly this was supposed to be used in the case of Papyrus’ panic attacks, but this was different. “It’s alright. It will be alright—”

“ _piss off!”_ his father lay a gentle hand upon Sans’ brow, and below it the small skeleton’s eyes were feral and frantic as they gazed up at him.

“It’s alright. Calm down.”

“no! you bastards killed my brother! you—” he felt something pierce his soul, and mentally his brain was _screaming_ more than it ever had done in his entire life. His breaths were sawing in and out uncontrollably, the room spinning like a tornado. He sharply inhaled, trying to get more air in—but it wasn’t having it. They were killing him too. They had killed Papyrus and now they were killing him.

A voice broke through the white noise. _“Breathe, Sans, breathe. It’s alright. Breathe through it.”_

His chest squeezed with the pressure, along with another hand that was clasped around the base of his skull telling him _calm down._ In pure rage and panic, Sans cried out, groaning in confusion and dread and disbelief and _god_ — _was this what papyrus always felt like?_ He coughed in an attempt to get more air in, but it wasn’t working. He felt himself summon a row of blasters, much to the dismayed shouting in his ear, but it only seemed to make the world dim faster.

_no, i won’t die. i won’t. i’m staying here to save papyrus._

As the additional use of magic hit his system, another surge of agony hit his chest, before all of a sudden his limbs seized up. Stiffened. His eyes were huge, rolling to the back of his head as he started shaking. All he could do was listen to the panicked shouting of those around him.

“It’s a seizure—his body cannot take the deficit,” Gaster’s seven hands were all holding him down now. “He’s going to fall down.” the pure unfiltered dread and fear in the man’s voice sent shivered down his spine, all of the man’s worst nightmares coming true. Losing both sons in one day? His voice trembled. “This is exactly what happened to Papyrus.”

_i’m not dying. i won’t die. i have to save papy._

“I’m going to call for help.” Grillby released the comforting grip from Sans’ body and jumped up to find the phone.

Through his seizure, Sans heard his father’s voice speak in such a soothing tone he had never heard from him before, “Hold on, Sans. I will save you, and I will save Papyrus. But you must hold on.”

Confused, glassy eyes met with Gaster’s, his small body completely out of his control and cradled by the man that he had just been shouting at. But it was a promise that yes, he was going to try to hold on.

Moments later, Grillby ran back to them, phone still in hand, “Can you teleport us to Alphys’ lab?”

Gaster glowered in surprise, expecting him to have been calling the hospital that he had been so demanding over. Maybe he had a change of mind upon understanding his contempt with letting go of that control to strangers. At least with Alphys, she was a friend, and a colleague.

“Yes, I should be able to,” he had already used up a large part of his magic supply teleporting himself here on a whim mere minutes ago. Usually one would wait at least 24 hours before teleporting again, let alone teleporting three people at once straight after. “Hold onto me.”

Then they were gone.

**_....._ **

Sans wasn’t sure how he had managed to cling to consciousness in his current state, but he was doing it. If he tried any harder, he might just melt. Or dust. Whatever came first.

He was vaguely aware of being in a new place, of the alarmed face of Alphys looming over him, of Grillby throwing orders around as if he were back at war, of Gaster’s unnerved expression hidden behind vacant eyes as he paced around the room in circles. He was aware of being suddenly placed on something cold and hard, luminous lights directly above him burning his already dimming retinas. He was also aware of something being smothered onto his face and being told to breathe. But he could _not_ get rid of the persistent thought in his head—the fact Papyrus had fallen down. How did it get so far? It was all because of that damned flower.

But whatever his dad had injected into his soul, had him dizzily calm, a sense of serenity washing over him despite the dull anxiety in the background of his mind. Papyrus was lucky to be given this. Sans could do with this feeling a lot more often.

Something poked into his arm, another into his soul, and then several more into his sternum. He moaned pitifully, wanting nothing more than to just sleep. Sans blinked tiredly, beginning to mull over the idea that perhaps eternal rest wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

But maybe with three of them trying to save him instead of just Gaster, he might have a chance. He held onto that thought. They were fighting to keep him from falling down too.

Alphys warped into his vision. “His magic reserves is at seven point three over four hundred. Um…he needs a massive transfusion, but I don’t know where to get it from…”

“Get it from me.” Gaster announced, already prepping for a transfusion, “I’m the best match, and we have the same source of magic.”

“Um…okay.”

Within minutes, blue magic was flowing freely from Gaster’s soul, through a tube and into Sans’ own. The young skeleton breathed a sigh of relief—it felt like a numbing, soothing sensation to finally get the thing his body had been starved of.

“T-The only thing is, by the looks of it, you don’t replenish your magic as fast as he does…a-and if his body couldn’t keep up with the loss, there’s no way you can,” Alphys explained, hesitantly watching him, “We have to find another source.”

Gaster hummed, readjusting his reading glasses, “We only need enough of it for his body to live on. Once he has a sustained amount above the point of emergency shutdown, he will continue to produce magic again. His magic isn’t draining like Papyrus’ was.”

“But…why couldn’t you do that before?” to any old outsider, Alphys had a good point. Gaster sighed.

“I tried this with Papyrus. There is a creature inside his soul that drains his magic faster than what I could give him, even my own,” his face twisted, slumping into a chair, “But Sans has never been to the point where his body shuts down and stops producing magic until Papyrus attacked him. He was always in a much better condition than Papyrus until now.”

Sans blinked with great difficulty. The faces looming over him were becoming very blurry.

“How quickly d-does his m-magic replicate?”

“When normally functioning, about twenty-nine over forty.”

Alphys blinked, “That’s fast!”

“Papyrus is around sixteen over forty, and I am twenty-five over forty.”

“Wow,” Alphys smiled, “You guys have pretty big magic reserves! The rest of us are under fifteen.”

Gaster offered a smug smile back. Yeah, it was pretty fast.

 _and i’m the fastest,_ Sans thought to himself complacently.

“Yes. So once he is above the crisis point, he should be fine.”

Then his face suddenly shifted in expression, one of sudden realisation.

Grillby decided to speak up, “What is it?”

Gaster paused for a second, running over the thought in his head again, before continuing, “I think I may know of a way to revive Papyrus.”

A heavy weight in Sans’ chest lightened.

_he can still be saved…? thank god… oh my gosh thank god…_

Of course, he would express his everlasting gratitude if it weren’t for the fact that his vision had turned into a pair of backwards binoculars. Everything was so vignette and far away…and…numb…

“Umm, sorry to intrude, but, uh,” Alphys’ blurry figure was frowning over him, “Is it normal for his eyelights to be dimming?”

There was the sound of bone hitting metal and the scraping of a chair moving, before he heard his father’s voice boom in his ear.

_“Sans? Are you still with us?”_

“mmm…”

_everything is so distant…so far away…like a ferry on a beach…do we have beaches…? can we go to a beach…? is that even possible?_

His eyes fluttered shut.

_“…Might…just…tired…”_

_“Not…sudden…on…”_

_“…’hit…”_

_“…’ssive bleed…”_

_“…’ans…”_

_“…Talk…me…Sans…”_

_“…’ans…”_

_“Sans!”_

_“mhmm?”_

_“…..eyes…”_

_“mmm?”_

_“Open…eyes…”_

_“mm…”_

_i wanna see papyrus real bad…_

_“Open…..Sans….”_

_really wanna go on a beach… “…beach…?”_

At that, an eye socket was suddenly yanked open, then he was staring into an small piercing bright light. He wriggled.

“Not…..’acting…”

“…’ake…’hirt…”

The same thing happened to his other eye. How annoying. And intrusive. And bright. Like the beach.

_are we on a beach?_

Faintly, he felt his hoodie being slipped off, along with his comfy grey shirt being torn apart by the sheer force of the sun. Without his hoodie, it was suddenly very cold; was it really a beach if it was cold?

“beeeaashh?” he slurred, wanting oh so desperately to have his hoodie back. The last thing he saw was Gaster’s grimacing face towering directly over him, staring ominously into the windows of his soul before his eyes fell shut again.

His arms tingled as they were tugged apart like a starfish. It was as if they were being tickled by…a crab. Yes. He chuckled deeply to himself. “…beeasshh…”

What was it they said they were doing? Sunbathing? He could definitely do with some of that right now. Or…could just sleep.

_yeah, sleep sounds good._

Sans’ head lulled to the side, embracing the impending darkness.

**_....._ **

This experience of awakening was different to the others. It was beginning to seem like a pattern. Something went wrong, Sans woke up in a bed. Something else went wrong, Sans woke up in a bed. Rinse and repeat. Will the cycle ever end?

He was fully aware this time around, barring the slight uncertainty as to what happened before he suddenly blacked out. Something about a beach...?

But as of right now, in this moment, he felt empty.

Nothing. Like there had been so many emotions to process at once his mind just flattened out and gave him _nothing_.

With that in mind, opening his eyes to see Gaster fast asleep over his stomach was not the sight he initially expected to see. Still, it was somewhat amusing. Aching sore arms were splayed out opposite each other at an odd angle, an IV-line dangling down and underneath’s Gaster’s clothes. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that his old man would use every last bit of his energy to keep him alive.

At the back of the room stood Alphys, hastily scrawling some information down before offering Sans a timid smile. He returned the gesture, vaguely pointing at the creature asleep on his lap as if to say, _the hell happened here?_

She shrugged, mouthing the word _tired?_ and nodded his general direction.

That made sense. It wouldn’t surprise him if Gaster had overworked himself to the point of exhaustion; it had happened before.

He wanted more than anything to ask what had happened, what was going on, and where is Papyrus? Gaster said he could still save him, right? Did he? Is that why he’s so tired?

The confusion in Sans’ expression alone must have spoken volumes to Alphys as she quickly drew out something on her clipboard, before turning it around for him.

It read; _are you okay?_

Sans nodded nonchalantly, not entirely sure if he was being truthful. He didn't _know_ if he was ok because he can’t remember what happened.

Alphys tried writing something else, “ _let me know if you need anything.”_

He offered a subtle thumbs up, before shuffling back into the cushioned pillows, cautious about waking the sleeping scientist. While on a fruitless endeavour to fall back into a peaceful sleep once more, he couldn’t help but wonder…

What on earth had just happened?


	8. Chapter 8 - Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster, Grillby and Alphys try to save Sans, meanwhile the flower is having seconds thoughts...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Can I just say thank you so much for the comments last chapter! It's pretty much the only contribution I've had this entire story and it really made my day and remotivated me so thank you :)) Enjoy!!

_What’s going on, where is Papyrus? Gaster said he could save him, right? Is that why he’s so tired?_

_Alphys tried writing something else, “let me know if you need anything.”_

_He offered a subtle thumbs up, before shuffling back into the cushiony pillows. While on a fruitless endeavour to fall back into a peaceful sleep once more, he couldn’t help but wonder…_

_What on earth had just happened?_

**,,,**

****Six Hours Ago****

A mere white flash akin to the strike of a lightning bolt, brought teleportation of the three monsters to Alphys’ lab. Dread settled into Gaster’s chest; the sight before him was the same that he had seen minutes before Papyrus fell down, and now Sans was headed the same route. The young skeleton seized frantically in his arms, although the fact that he had been holding out longer than his brother did bring some hope.

Once the medicine settled in, he did seem to be slowly calming down. Aside from vacantly staring at the ceiling of course. His body fell motionless but that was favoured over the shaking from earlier.

Gaster seated himself, unsure if his exhaustion was due to the teleport or how long he has been awake. Possibly a combination of both.

From his side, Alphys peered over her new skeleton patient, her gaze focused as she appeared to be mentally noting something. The small scientist chewed on her lip as she spoke, “Umm, sorry to intrude, but, uh…” she paused, readjusting her position to make sure, “Is it normal for his eyelights to be dimming?”

Gaster sprung up from his seat, the metal scraping the floor as he rushed to Sans’ side. No, his eyelights dimming _definitely_ was not normal and you probably shouldn’t even need to ask that.

“Sans?” he attempted to get the skeleton’s attention, placing a steady hand on his skull, “Are you still with us?”

“mmm…” Sans’ eyes fluttered shut.

“He might just be tired,” Grillby suggested, perfectly timed with the alarms beginning to blare from the monitors surrounding him. “Or not…”

“That would not happen so suddenly, especially not with these warnings.” He gazed over at the red flashing screen. Somehow, his magic numbers were ticking even lower. How on earth has he not fallen down yet…?

Yet another, higher pitched alarm resounded on top of that.

_Don’t you dare, Sans. Don’t you dare._

Grillby noticed first, “Oh _shit_ ,” he swore, locking eyes with the cesspool of blue liquid forming over Sans’ lovely grey shirt, “There’s a massive bleed.”

_Must be from the attack earlier._

_Keep him awake._

“Sans,” Gaster lightly tapped him on the skull, “Talk to me, Sans.”

No reply.

“Sans.”

…

“ _Sans!”_

There was a small gasp, and then a groan.

“Open your eyes.”

“mmm?”

“ _Open your eyes,”_ he repeated, noting how Alphys had starting applying pressure down on the wound.

“mmm…” It didn’t sound like he was hearing them. Sighing, Gaster tried again.

“Open your eyes, Sans.”

“…beach?”

Gaster blinked, taken aback by the random remark. But if he was losing lucidity, that wasn’t good. So he took it upon himself to press open the eye socket, shining a penlight in the abyss. Thankfully, the skeleton squirmed, meaning his body was still able to react to the invasion.

“Definitely not acting lucid,” he concluded, doing the same to the other eye. Despite being hooked up to the most powerful monster in the underground, apparently that wasn’t good enough.

This is where he went wrong with Papyrus.

_What now?_

Frustrated, he took large strides over to the equipment transfusing his magic in Sans’ and increased the dosage by triple. And damned if it made him feel unwell; maybe pumping in magic faster was the key to saving him. Now…to stop it from bleeding out of him.

But the wound, of course, wasn’t a straightforward one that could just be healed with magic. Papyrus’ bone attack had gone through his ribs and pierced his soul. It was no wonder his body had gone into a survival state, it would likely need a more invasive procedure.   
Something that he really did not _ever_ wish to do at all, let alone on his own son. Unfortunately or not, he was the most qualified in the room to do it.

“Take off his shirt and hoodie. I will try to repair it,” he instructed, moving back over to the table to give him a sedative. As Alphys slipped off his hoodie and discarded it onto a nearby desk, Grillby, quite possibly skilled from handling a kitchen all day, easily tore through his shirt with a pair of scissors, no time or energy to be wasted attempting to pull it over his head. If he survived this, he would be welcome to get a brand new one.

Clearly the action awoke him a little, his eyes moving around aimlessly as he slurred, “beeaachh?”

Gaster merely frowned down at him, waiting for the drug to take effect. If anything it would make him even _more_ foolish.

His eyes fell shut again almost immediately after, which made the situation now a ticking time bomb. The other two in the room dragged apart his arms opposite each other to make the wound easily accessible.

“…beeeaachh,” the young skeleton giggled to himself, somehow finding the entire situation amusing.

“Beach?” Grillby asked, bemused at Sans’ current train of thought. Alphys hummed.

“I think it’s because he’s flat on his back with the light on him, his mind is probably confused thinking he’s on a beach. Or maybe it’s a coping mechanism?”

“fishhh…”

Gaster blinked. “ _Fish?”_ he queried incredulously. Sans’ smile drew up into a half-grin.

“m…starfish.”

“You are not a…” he sighed, noting the current starfish-like position of his arms. “Alright.”

There wasn’t a reply after that, so presumably he had fallen asleep.

Right. All he had to do was fix it _enough_ so that his body could start working on its own again.

Before they could go any further, Grillby suddenly spoke up. “Apologies, but I don’t think I will be able to join you. I do not…wish to see.”

Gaster pursed his mouth. He didn’t blame him; the man was a war veteran, and no doubt seeing another friend on the table would bring back some bad memories. Well, he wasn’t exactly going to be too much help here anyway. This specific specialty was for himself and Alphys.

“Don’t worry about it,” he tendered, gesturing his head towards the exit, “I will take it from here.”

Grillby shook his head, “No, I will stay in the room, it’s the least I can do. But I cannot take part in what you are doing.”

Well, fair enough.

**,,,**

The operation proved to be a difficult one. Gaster was perhaps half way through it, beginning to heal his ribs; thankfully, the bones here were only fractured and could be mended with healing magic. The most difficult part, the soul, had been dealt with first. The poor thing had been pumped with a multitude of so many different medications it was almost surprising it hadn’t _exploded._

But when his magic indicator ticked over from 6.14 to 6.25, Gaster felt himself slump with tremendous relief.

 _Finally,_ he was able to start healing on his own. And most importantly of all, _he wasn’t going to fall down._

Alphys met his gaze, forcing a smile, “See? I told you he’d get better! He’s all good now, right…?”

Gaster hesitated, but bowed his head, “I believe if he continues to improve like this, then yes.”

Grillby arrived at his side just as Alphys pulled a blanket over him. “I presume from your demeanour it went well?”

“Yes, yes,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation, eyes closed, “He should be alright.”

“Well…good, that’s good,” he almost jumped at the hand that appeared on his shoulder but reclaimed his poise. “Does he only need to recuperate?”

Hopefully, he wasn’t expecting an answer soon, because a wave of vertigo washed over Gaster and nearly made him shiver.

With his eyes still closed, he attempted to glance up with an effort to see Sans’ readings. But it was as if someone had turned the motion blur on his vision all the way up to 100, the words blurring and stretching as he nearly tripped over himself.

“Gaster?” Grillby was at his side in an instant, two hands grazing his shoulder, “You’re exhausted, sit down.”

The man nearly laughed; it was ironic, he said the same thing to Papyrus earlier and _that_ didn’t work out.

“I am alright.” He acknowledged instead. Now, his priority was to get Sans comfortable. Gaster managed to get one hand on the table before his legs suddenly buckled, caught only under the arms by Grillby, hissing irritably at the startled gasp coming from Alphys. “I said I’m _alright!”_

“Very clearly you are not!”

_I suppose we are having another argument, then?_

_A pity. I’m tired._

He shook it off, hoisting Sans’ body in the air with blue magic and walking into the other room to get him onto a bed. To his surprise, he nearly _dropped_ him. Regardless, the determined scientist continued on through gritted teeth—it was only a couple of steps, nothing to get too overworked about.

By the time he got Sans nicely settled onto the bed, his vision suddenly washed together like the fierce waves of water, distorted and twisting so much his legs became jelly as he fell backwards against the wall, unseeing. White noise filled his ears while only one thing ran through his mind.

_What’s the matter with me?_

_Am I coming down with the same ailment as my sons? Perhaps it is infectious?_

_Impossible.._

Despite his mental grit, he was almost unaware of the hands guiding him towards a chair. This time, he willingly sat down.

Alphys swerved into his already swimming vision.

“You’re o-overexerting yourself,” her voice quivered with anxiety. Well, who could blame her. “I didn’t n-notice before, but y-you’ve put a lot of your magic into Sans and well…you need to rest.”

Ah. That would be the triple dosage of his magic transfusion going into Sans. Well, it didn’t matter. He had already concurred with himself earlier that it didn’t matter if it made him feel unwell—if Sans needed the extra magic from him then so be it. It was a little price to pay in exchange for his son’s life.

Within the grips of his dizziness, eventually he ended up slumped over Sans’ bedside, listening intently for the beeps and noting every single millisecond between them. That was, of course, until he fell asleep.

**,,,**

Sleep was the one certain thing that would help heal the soul. And Gaster, well, he had plenty of it thanks to his sudden snooze over Sans’ bedside. At least, until...

“...dad?”

Somehow, that one word made him feel nauseous upon awakening. As if he had _failed._ Sans' voice was quiet and hoarse, and above all _confused_.

Of course, forgetting everything that happened during that fever dream was to be expected. Gaster sat up and composed himself, glancing up at the screens to observe Sans’ stats.

_Excellent. Magic is now 75.3 over 400._

Apparently he had gone off on a snooze and _no-one told_ \--

“where am i? what's going on?”

Gaster stopped his internal monologue, exhaling softly at the confusion in his son’s face. “We are in Alphys’ lab. You had an... accident,” best not to mention Papyrus right now. “I, Alphys and Grillby worked on you, but you are doing better. Try not to worry. How are you feeling?”

Sans grimaced. “im alright. im actually feeling quite ok actually. but i don't remember much.”

“That’s to be expected. Any pain?” it was unlikely with the cocktail of medicines he was on, but just in case...

Sans shook his head, “nah, im ok,” then he squirmed, “im cold.”

Gaster studied him for a moment. Hmm, that’s right. He was laying under a blanket with only his pants having lost his shirt, and the hoodie had a rather large blue stain on it.

Mutely drawing back the blanket, Gaster slipped off his black lab coat, covering Sans with the warm material before returning the blanket again.

The small skeleton was apparently too tired to give thanks, but the gratified expression upon his face spoke volumes.

“i uh...” Sans cleared his throat, gingerly curling his fingers around the blanket, “feel like im missing something.”

“Oh?”

“yeah. like something big. i dunno.”

Well, Gaster couldn’t risk him freaking out again, so he chose to remain ambiguous.

“I suppose you will find out in due time.”

Sans narrowed his eyes at him. “yeah, guess so.” Small fingers scratched at the blanket, idly in thought. Without looking up, he asked, “how did i get here?”

“Like I stated, there was an accident.”

“but what _was_ the accident?”

Gaster wrinkled his brow. “You had a magic deficit. But it’s alright now.”

He observed the younger skeleton’s eyes scowl, before they suddenly shrunk into slits. To his side, Gaster eyed the sedative that was within arms reach on the table next to him. Just in case.

“…where’s papyrus?”

A long pause silenced the air between them, the elder scientist unsure of how to proceed without upsetting him.

“I…he is at home.”

“at home? so he’s safe?”

“…Yes.” Gaster looked away, eyeing his clipboard in an effort to hide his dishonesty. Technically he was at home, but he was not _safe_ by any means. Fallen down was not _safe._

“gaster,” he heard Sans press from in front of him, “where’s pap? what happened? i know you’re lying about something.”

His gaze flickered to the tray neatly displayed on the bedside cabinet. “Perhaps you shouldn’t worry yourself over these matters just yet.” small bony fingers clasping the sides of the bed caught his attention, clearly becoming distressed. He was not a good liar.

“just tell me if something is wrong, please,” he still refused to meet his son’s eye, but going by the shaky voice he knew something was looming, “is he injured like i am?”

Eventually, Gaster sighed, twitchily tapping the side of his clipboard. “Yes. I suppose you could say that.”

Sans tugged at his sleeve, leaning forward slightly, “you _suppose?_ c’mon, tell me!”

How do you tell someone their sibling is about to die?

The numbers to the right of him flashing from green to orange caught his eye. Imminent panicking was on the way. Unless he flat out lied about his brother’s health.

Could he do that?

Could he really _lie_ that much?

If it were to avoid another catastrophe, then perhaps…

“Your brother is alright. Recovering like you are. But you needed more attention, which is why you are here, and Papyrus is at home.” he finally met his eye, watching attentively as the shallow breathing quickly settled down into relieved sighing.

“really?”

“Yes.”

“he’ll be alright?”

“Yes.” He forced that word out much faster than he expected.

“well, ok.”

Good. Disaster avoided.

“so when can I see him?”

…Or not.

“Soon. You are both quite ill, it wouldn’t be ideal to take on visitors right now. You may risk endangering him.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie.

“in a few days then?”

_That gives me some time._

“Yes.”

Sans finally settled back down, “ok, cool.” Gaster took the time to check his stats. His magic reserves were at 120 over 400 now, which was well over enough for him to be capable of continuing on his own. So, hesitantly, he began unhooking himself from the transfusion machine, albeit apprehensive having been his life support for the past day.

Curious eyes watched him work. “what ya doin’ now?”

“Your body should be capable enough to cope on it’s own now,” he replied, lightly tugging the end of the tube out of Sans. “If you can get to two hundred, I am happy to let you start walking around on your own.”

The lights in Sans’ eyes grew huge, “you’ve been giving me your magic this whole time?”

“Yes. But it’s no trouble.”

He frowned, “man, but that’s like…that’s bad, right?”

“ _It is no trouble,”_ Gaster reiterated firmly; he would have gone much further than this, and still will do if need be.

A look of gratitude shone in pale eyes, “thanks, pops. that must’ve been exhausting as hell.”

Gaster couldn’t hide a slight smirk, “That is indeed one way to put it.”

**,,,**

Eventually Sans was strong enough to start walking. In fact, his magic hold had skyrocketed once the wound had healed, which was a testament to his rejuvenating capacities. Despite his health improving in leaps though, he still hadn't seen Papyrus, nor did Gaster want to talk about him.

“can i see him after this?” he was asking of the older man, stumbling around the room with aid as if a toddler learning to walk.

Gaster yet again shook his head, following closely behind the waddling skeleton. “I'm afraid not. My apologies.”

Sans scowled, “somehow im beginning to doubt if he’s really ok.”

Something in Gaster’s face shifted at that remark, but it quickly resumed it’s impassive state.

“if you tell me, i can help.”

“You cannot help. It's impossible to.”

“so you’re admitting there _is_ something wrong?” his empty sockets were as dark as death’s eye.

“I did not say tha--" he jolted forward and caught the small monster as his legs buckled, hoisting him up under the arms. With a relieved sigh, he readjusted his firmer grip, “That’s enough for today."

Sans was inclined to agree, “yeah...”

Both skeletons stumbled back to his bedside, keeping a weary eye open in case of falling.

“You are doing well.”

“don't feel like it.”

“Your recovery is remarkable, Sans. For a monster with such low HP I am impressed.”

“what, cause I can walk five steps away from bed?”

“It is much more ideal than the situation yesterday.”

“look.” Sans shuffled back into bed, curling onto his side while Gaster drew up the thin sheets over him. “i want to see papyrus. now. i refuse to do anything else until i see him.”

“As I have told you before, he is not in the state to be seen--"

“you haven’t even left this freakin room!”

_...Ah._

“yeah, im right aren’t i? just the way you reacted to that, im right. hes dead.”

Gaster watched him solemnly.

“don't you think i can’t feel it?”

Exasperated, the scientist sat down beside him, refusing to meet his eye as he pulled out a screen device. After checking, and double checking, he turned it around and handed it to Sans.

“He has not dusted, but he has fallen down. Alphys is with him now while I stay here.”

Sans shrunk into himself, overwhelmed at the revelation that he had hoped wasn’t true. “but you should be there, trying to fix it.”

“I’ve spent the better part of two days attempting to fix _you._ I cannot be in two places at once, as much as I'd like to be.”

This apparently was an excuse good enough for Sans as he spoke no further, clutching the hem of his shirt. The action triggered an instinct Gaster couldn't ignore.

“Are you sure there is no pain?” perhaps the medicine was wearing off.

Sans snorted halfheartedly. “yeah. im good.”

“Then why are you holding yourself like that?”

For a second, he thought he heard the young monster snarl under his breath, before dragging his hand away from his shirt. “cause im upset. something you’re incapable of.”

It took an incredible amount of self-control not to react to that.

“There is no need to be hostile. I understand you’re upset; however I am only trying to help.”

“if you want to _help_ so much then get out of here and help him!” the angered voice was accompanied by flashing orange numbers coming from his immediate left. Gaster eyed the sedative to his right and considered his options.

“don't you dare.”

Gaster scowled. “If you continue like this I will have no choice. Your body cannot handle the stress right now.”

“so now im not allowed to be angry?” Sans’ eyes burned with hostility and grief, “ok, you know what, you useless piece of...” he forced himself to sit up, much to the dismay of the numbers flashing between orange and red now.

Gaster held his patience together and pushed him back down.

“You are not making this easy for me.”

The eyelights in his son's eyes were gone now. “oh? it's not easy for you? i'll show you not easy.” A blaster abruptly materialised into thin air in front of him, an eye glowing a cyan blue. “you'd best get out of here.”

_Enough._

In one easy, fellow swoop, Gaster reached for the syringe, summoning his soul with the other hand. It appeared, but just as he reached for it a large concentration of red energy struck in his general direction, just grazing an arm. The blaster disintegrated immediately after.

“Sans, I don't want to hurt you,” he tried, manoeuvring himself to his side and pressing him down flat. “This is your last chance to calm down.”

Granted, he was being ten times more lenient with the skeleton than what was normal; anything that happened now was a mercy.

The blue in his eye fizzling out, Sans blinked rapidly, attempting to adjust to his surroundings. Supposedly his sudden outburst had triggered an internal problem.

As the monitors started to blare, a rising anxiety situated itself into Gaster's chest. The white eyelights in Sans returned and grew enormous, a window into how suddenly scared he was feeling, indicating something was amiss. His fingers clinging tightly onto his trouser leg, Sans turned his head towards Gaster, a plea for help in his eyes.

“This is why I told you to calm down,” he sighed, taking the shaky soul into his hands and emptying the syringe not it. “Next time, know your limits.”

“why can't I...” Sans ran a trembling hand over his face and heavily exhaled. Then sharply inhaled. And sharply inhaled again. His fingers clawed at his throat.

_Not again._

“Breathe,” Gaster instructed, one eye on the monitor that was remaining in the red now. “Take a deep breath.”

Sans rapidly shook his head, squirming around panicked.

_The medicine will kick in any time soon. Just endure for a while longer..._

He placed a hand over the skeleton’s forehead, meeting his terrified gaze.

“Slower. Breathe slower. It’s alright.”

“i can't”

“Yes you can. You’re fine.”

“i can't”

“Slow down.”

“im sorry”

“It’s alright.”

This went on for about another minute before the incessant gasping slowed, his eyes becoming clouded as he began to fall asleep. Gaster's hand didn't move from his son's shoulder, waiting until Sans was fully unconscious before retreating it with a long sigh.

_Why are you so difficult?_

But he did have a point. Now that he wasn’t on death's door anymore, it would make sense to let someone else watch him while he dealt with Papyrus. He was likely going to be out for a while anyway.

With that decided, he retrieved the phone from his pocket and began to dial Alphys’ number.

**,,,**

“Papyrus.”

“Papyrus? Are you there?”

The voice was silvery and familiar…yet filled his stomach with dread. Nothing good ever came from the creature that owned it. This time, his visit was accompanied by an excessive amount of drowsiness, in spite of his eyes remaining alert and averse to closing.

A vast empty void emerged around him, once more feeling as if he had fell into a dream-like state. Like de-ja-vu, a yellow flower surfaced from the nothingness, seeming to be in much worse shape than the last time he was caught in this daunting vacuum.

“Howdy!” the despicable flower called from below him, despite Papyrus’ desire not to look at him. It’s petals were beginning to flake off, the stalk of the creature drooping. “To cut to the chase, basically, you’re dying. And for me that’s a problem.”

Well, he could have figured that out for himself.

“I can feel it.” Papyrus confirmed, looking down at his own shimmering hands, as if they were fading in and out of existence. “I feel like I’ve been like this for a while now.”

“Yeah…” the flower frowned, somehow managing to bounce from side to side before speaking again, “Maybe I should have stuck to human souls. At least they don’t _die_ as easy as monsters.”

“Why do you want to come back?”

The unexpected question took the flower by surprise, his white pupils shrinking inwards. Perhaps he hadn’t thought this out himself yet?

“I…just need to?” it stated simply, appearing to be pondering the issue. “But…”

Papyrus tugged at the red scarf that was back on his neck, even though it had been abandoned in the real world. It felt like home. “But…?”

Flowey sighed, his form drooping sadly. “If I get a body, I know I’m gonna be a big cry baby again,” he wriggled, gazing at the bottomless void. “I think I’d be _really_ upset if I killed someone to resurrect myself. So part of me kinda wants my own body without a soul. But without a soul I can’t feel, and probably won’t be able to keep that form for long anyways. So…”

Whether for better or worse, it seemed being inside _Papyrus’_ soul, out of all people, for so long, had a rather large impact on him. He beamed proudly.

“But that’s good!” he hollered, then frowned, “Well, not good, of course…it isn’t good that you’d die…but it’s good that you’re being rational now!”

“Rational?” Flowey scowled, bopping around aimlessly. “I’m not rational. I just want my own body and that’s it.”

“Now you’re contradicting yourself,” Papyrus grinned, then knelt down to his level. Flowey leapt back in perplexity. “You’ve been in my soul for too long, little flower! And now you’re starting to think more clearly, which is great!”

Flowey seemed…timid?

“Really?”

“Why yes!” the tall skeleton clapped his hands together, rather proud of his indirect achievement, “But there’s a bit of a problem…neither of us can survive if you stay here.”

The flower’s face seem to turn a shade darker at that. “What makes you think _you_ will survive if I leave? You’ve already fallen down, right?”

Papyrus considered him for a minute. “Well…firstly, I don’t think I’ve _completely_ fallen down. Or I wouldn’t be able to talk with you here! I think you’re draining my magic so low that it’s given off the impression I’m on the verge of death,” then he added with a smile, “If I were really too far gone, I would have dusted already. I’ve been like this for a while.”

Flowey was silent for a moment, presumably processing this new information and justifying it. Eventually, he gazed back up at him, eyes slightly lost. “Boy, you really are smarter than you put out there, aren’tcha?”

“I’m just trying to stay positive!” Papyrus stooped onto his knees, which elicited a weird floating sensation. “There has to be a way for us to both survive this…”

The utter introspection in the flower’s face instead of having donned a flashy demonic smile was something to behold. Maybe living in his soul was making him actually _feel_.

“Why are you trying to save me?” it asked, refusing to meet his eye. “I essentially tried to kill you…” There was that demonic smile again, “And maybe I still will!”

Papyrus shut his eyes with a smile, “No you won’t…I believe you can do better! There has to be a way for you to get your form back without hurting anyone else!”

Flowey snorted, “Oh yeah? And who’s going to do that, _you?”_

_Hmm…_

“No, but my dad will!”

The flower blinked vacantly, flabbergasted. “Your… _dad_?” he wavered before bursting into a loud cackle, the noise resonating around the desolate void. “ _What_!?”

“He’s a scientist!” Papyrus explained, bopping the Flower on the head much to his disapproval. It growled scornfully at him.

“Don’t touch me,” it bit back with a snarl, “There’s lots of scientists around here. What makes you think your _dad_ can?”

“Well, he’s the best scientist in the entire world!”

“In the entire…” Flowey froze, narrowing his beady eyes, “Wait, you mean Gaster?”

Yes! Who else would he be talking about?

Papyrus’s head bobbled enthusiastically “If he built the entire core and brought himself back to life, I’m sure he could bring you back too!”

There was a long drawn out sigh from the Flower, but eventually he appeared to concede. “Alright. We’ll both die if I stay here and I _guess_ you’ll be of use alive, so…I’ll leave, but I can only survive for three days at most without a soul to tap magic from.”

Eagerly bouncing, Papyrus’ eyes twinkled, “Okay! I will find him straight away and get him to save you!”

“But listen here,” A stray vine slithered from the ground and nearly struck Papyrus in the face. “If you take more than two days, I’ll manifest into your brother’s soul and kill him,” Flowey craned his head and growled menacingly, his smile twisted and stretching to the tips of his face, “He only has 1HP, he’s of no use to me. But if I’m dying then so’s your brother.”

Papyrus’ entire demeanour fell, his shoulders dropping at the unwarranted threat. “You don’t have to be so mean…I want to help. Please don’t hurt my brother.”

“Yeah, well…” Flowey resumed his normal passive expression, “I have to make sure, y’know?”

The two monsters of greatly differing moral compass stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, deliberating over the proposal and the hasty plan to save them both.

**,,,**

“I-I can assure you, Gaster, he will not be falling into another m-magic deficit any time soon…”

Alphys was doing an incredibly terrible job ‘reassuring’ Gaster that no, Sans wasn’t going to suddenly dust while he was tending to Papyrus. His magic reserves had surpassed the half-way point now, sitting nicely at 280/400. Yet, you couldn’t be too careful.

“His behaviour has been rather hostile as of late. If he wakes up and becomes upset, you must put him to sleep again.”

Alphys sighed, having heard this ten times before. “I-I know, I will. I swear. He’ll be okay. And if not, I’ll let you know. Right?”

Gaster’s mouth set in a hard line as he forced himself not to repeat the same instruction he had been giving for the past twenty minutes. If Sans became ill again, he wouldn’t forgive himself. Nor would he forgive Alphys. But Papyrus was a factor too, and no-one knew the skeletons better than he did.

The triple dose of a magic transfusion had worked on Sans, so perhaps it would work on Papyrus. Possibly even quadruple, though that would be dangerous for himself. Does it matter, though? There would be no-one there to stop him….

“Gaster?”

He blinked, forgetting to answer Alphys’ question. “Apologies. Yes, alright.” He ground his jaw, taking a few tentative steps away from Sans as he began to summon the energy needed to teleport to such a far distance. “Be sure to keep me updated.”

“I will, don’t worry about—”

The rest of the sentence became white noise as a sudden rush of energy rippled through his body, clashing like two ends of strong magnets connecting together as one. A hand clutched onto the cage of his soul, recognition dawning on his face as he _knew._

He almost didn’t notice the pair of yellow hands timidly on his sides until the voice belonging to them spoke. “Gaster? A-Are you okay? Do you…not have enough magic?” Alphys dragged him out of his reverie, his gaze snapping to meet hers. “O-Oh, no, is something wrong? Do I need to…? Hold on, let me just find a—”

“Dr Alphys, I am fine.”

She squinted. “Oh. You zoned out a lot and looked a bit…scared.”

“Scared?” he frowned. No, no. Not scared. Quite the opposite. “I’m quite sure it is the contrary.” Before the little creature could reply, a flurry of blue and red magic washed over him before he vanished with a _zap_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time... Gaster vs the Flower...


	9. Chapter 9 - Yellow Flower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster's in trouble, and between the three of them there's a magic crisis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long one this time! My motivation came back >:)   
> I think I'm gonna do 1 more chapter after this and call it quits. I have tons of other ideas and it won't make sense to fit them in this story. Thanks to those who have commented thus far, it really excites me when I get the email :))

_The rest of the sentence became white noise as a sudden rush of energy rippled through his body, clashing like two ends of strong magnets connecting together as one. A hand clutched onto the cage of his soul, recognition dawning on his face as he knew._

_Alphys dragged him out of his reverie. “Gaster? A-Are you okay? Do you…not have enough magic?”_

_“Dr Alphys, I am fine.”_

_She blinked. “Oh. You zoned out a lot and looked a bit…scared.”_

_“Scared?” he frowned. No, no. Not scared. Quite the opposite. “I’m quite sure it is the contrary.” A flurry of blue and red magic washed over him before he vanished with a zap._

**_..._ **

Drowning Papyrus in quadruple amounts of magic seemed like an amazing idea at the time. It worked on Sans, so it would work on Papyrus, no? Well…without the adrenaline keeping him standing upright, Gaster’s body was beginning to rebel against him and the plethora of magic leaving his system.

It was quite a sad sight, a lonesome old man slumped over the form of his dying son and pouring everything he had left into him, with only the very small hope that it would save him keeping him going. More likely than not, this little act would get them _both_ killed. But in this current predicament, the grieving father failed to see any other option.

So much so that it took him a while to realise a familiar sentient little flower was watching him.

...The creature behind all of this tragedy.

Flinching back with a start and whipping a hand in the air, Gaster mentally considered his options to protect Papyrus.

“You.” he spat at the creature with vigour, his angry heart beating with restrained rage. “I assume you are here to claim my son's soul?”

Flowey gazed up at the sparkles of red and blue floating around in the air, mesmerized and apparently oblivious to the man's anger.

“I tried that, didn’t work.” Flowey snarled, the floorboards groaning with what was likely to be growing vines.

Gaster ran over every possibility he could conjure to respond to the disgusting plant devil, but would talking not be useless? If anything, this needed to be dealt with as soon as possible.

Consequently, without granting the flower a response, he pulled together the last trickle of magic and summoned three more hands.

The flower's pupils shrunk, darting in all directions agitatedly, “No, wait! You don’t understand, I'm trying to _save_ him!”

_Yes, of course._

“You are merely saying that to save your own life.”

No doubt by the expression upon his face, Flowey was only worried to meet the end of his continued existence and every word that came out his mouth was a desperate lie.

“I’m not—I mean, _boy_ , that sure is an issue right now, we were _both_ gonna die if I didn’t get out of his soul but—”

His eyes narrowed. “You were _what_?”

“I…” Flowey froze, evidently realising the weight of his words. This creature had been living off of Papyrus’ soul this entire time?

That wasn’t possible…

Was it?

“But he said you could help us!” frenetic eyes were firmly locked onto the drifting blaster that had materialised and took up the vast majority of room space.

Help him. Help. _Him._ Does he have any idea how ridiculous that sounds? Did he really expect him to obey such an outrageously nonsensical request?

Before he could even take his next breath, a raging bombardment of red and blue charged towards the little flower. Baring his teeth, Gaster’s magic produced a rupture of tortuous screams from the repulsive creature and virtually incinerated it on the spot.

It was only a measly plant; it didn’t need _that_ much magic to get rid of it. But the creature lived such a despicable existence and deserved every morsel of agony the attack ended him with.

Bringing his gaze upon the steaming ashes of the vile flower, Gaster finally noticed the consequences of his outburst.

_…It’s becoming dark again._

_**...** _

Awareness came to Papyrus slowly, the dull, muffled beeping around him blending into the low hum of the room he lay awake in. A slow smile formed on his face as he realised what he had managed to accomplish.

Light.

Air.

Life.

_Alive._

He was still _alive._

When was the last time Papyrus was even awake? It felt like so long ago now…and yet somehow, he had made a deal with the devil and he was alive.

His heavy-weighted eyes peeled open, the real world blurred and confusing but warping into view. Almost as quickly, the giddying lightness in his chest was soon replaced with trepidation.

What was it he had to do again?

The flower had left his soul and freed him, but in return he had to help the silly little thing, or it would die out. And well…Papyrus was many things, but he was not a killer, despite what the creature had done.

Nevertheless, the newly revived skeleton heaved a sigh and forced himself to turn over. It was too early and probably not a good idea to be standing yet, so maybe if he just lay here a little while longer…

…but his eyes fell to the figure on the floor.

And it took mere seconds for his jumbled mind to recognise the only cloaked skeleton in existence.

Eyes wide and with a startled gasp, Papyrus shuffled a little more towards the end of the bed, trying to reach the man laying presumably unconscious just below him.

“Gaster?” he croaked, voice cracking and sore from disuse. “Gaster!”

There was no reply from the man, and the fact that one of the most self-conscious monsters he knew was unceremoniously asleep on the floor raised alarm bells within him.

Papyrus dropped an arm down, shaking the scientist slightly, and tried again firmer when there was no reply.

_What should I do…_

_What should I do!?_

_I’ve never had to deal with this!_

_I’ll…I’ll think of something…I can! And…I will!_

_I can do this!_

With immense effort, Papyrus hauled his fatigued body upright, dazed as the world rolled on its axis. Pushing through the dizzying feeling, his feet slid onto the floor and began to drive forward, aimlessly searching around the room for a wall to lean on while simultaneously ensuring he doesn’t trip over his dad.

Eventually he managed to slug himself against a wall, his kneecaps wobbling to the point of near collapse at any moment. Too breathless to carry on, his back slid down the wall, thumping onto the floor and exhaling a shaky sigh.

_I can still do this…_

“Is anyone there?!” he shouted as as loud as he could, groaning and whipping a hand to his chest at the pain. He ignored it and continued. “ _Please! Can anyone hear me!?”_

Granted, he couldn’t even _tell_ if anyone was there because all he heard now was white noise. He took in a deep breath despite the protesting ache in his chest and yelled as hard as his voice would allow, _“CAN SOMEONE HELP ME!”_

He waited. And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

But nobody came.

_I can’t do this…_

The old familiar feeling of dread pooled into his stomach again.

_I can’t do this…_

Having remained flat on the floor for a while had its perks though, as the high ringing in his ears began to subside enough to hear the humming of the room again.

Long enough so, that he soon heard the relieving sound of a door whooshing open followed by rapid tapping of footsteps. The noise of shoes touching the marble ground was harsh and echoey, making the skeleton wince.

Still distant and muffled, he heard _, “What is--? Oh my god…”_

Light footsteps grew nearer and nearer, a presence of a man kneeling over him, their eyes performing a once-over on Papyrus before falling onto his motionless father. Panicked hands tapped him on the face, “Dr Gaster? What the hell has happened here? And…Papyrus? You’re awake? Are you…”

Clearly it was one of the lab assistants. A human. He forgot the barrier was open. That means humans had jobs in the underground now…? That was weird to think about…

“Bloody hell, wait here a second,” the footsteps rapidly departed, coming to a stop somewhere and brought about another pattern of beeping sounds.

“Yeah, I’m in room 4B, two monsters are down. One of them is Dr Gaster…”

“Yeah... Yep. He’s unconscious but Papyrus—the other one is awake, barely.” Papyrus listened to the human relay what happened on the phone. Mercifully as his senses were coming back to him he regained the ability to see again—or at least well enough to see his dad.

“I don’t know, I just found them like that. Though they’ve both got what I think is a transfusion tube running between them and I can make guesses as to what happened from that.”

_Oh._

Papyrus raised an arm, suddenly noticing the tube sticking out of it.

_How did I not notice this before…?_

_And if I’m awake and he’s unconscious that means…_

_Oh no…_

He nearly jumped when a pair of shoes suddenly stepped out in front of him, their human face gazing down at him filled with worry. Well, he shouldn’t need to worry…not when it was Papyrus’ fault.

“Hey, come on, get up,” the human offered out a hand with a caring smile, “A monster is coming down to help him, but you need to lie back down on the bed.”

Papyrus blinked. “But I’m lying down on the floor, human. Isn’t that the same thing?”

The human snorted; his face had blanched a few shades lighter than a few minutes before. “It can’t be very comfortable, can it?” he chortled, helping Papyrus up and walking him over to the bed. His face was kind, _patient_. “I’m glad you’re awake.” The nice human paused, squinting, “Actually, it’s kinda weird, cause you fell down. Like, near-death sort of fell down.”

“I know, but…” Papyrus sighed, dropping onto the bed and curling up into a fetal position. “I suppose it’s weird for you. And it’s difficult to really explain it. But the thing that put me in a fallen down state saved me, but I don’t know where he went.”

“Oh, you mean…” apprehensive eyes fell to the ashes on the marble white ground surrounded by scorch marks. “Uh…I think your dad killed it.”

Papyrus blinked vacantly.

_What?_

_He wouldn’t do such a thing…would he?_

_Not after the flower saved him…the human was **definitely**_ wrong.

At that moment, the door hissed open, abruptly followed by footsteps hurriedly striding into the room.

Relief flooded his system—it was Alphys. Finally, a recognisable friendly face. Her mouth dropped at the sight in front of her, stopping midstride at the presentation of two extremely unlikely possibilities rolled into one. Papyrus had recovered from a fallen down state and Gaster had passed out, somehow.

“ _O-Oh my gosh,”_ she murmured, waddling over with the most panic-stricken expression Papyrus had ever seen on the poor monster’s face. The grating sound of human shoes meeting the ground seared his ears again, circling until he was behind them.

“What do you mean he killed it?” Papyrus asked, turning his head back towards the human. The man sighed, as if the entire intent of his leisurely stroll away from the two monsters was to avoid talking about such a thing.

“Well…there’s tiny flakes of leaves across the floor and judging by the burn marks everywhere, I guess there was a fight,” he readjusted his glasses and frowned, “Maybe that’s why he passed out?”

“No, no,” Alphys interrupted, her hands were hurriedly disconnecting Gaster from the loose tubes, “About an hour ago he tried using his own magic triple the dosage to save Sans. I-I’m guessing he tried it again here and…well…y-yeah…”

“Wait,” Papyrus sat up, unable to sit still any longer, “ _S-Save_ Sans?”

Alphys’ mouth set into a hard line—she forgot Papyrus didn’t know about that.

“Is he okay?”

“Umm…” she paused at the frantic expression on Papyrus’ face, “He is now…? I-I mean, he’s ok now. He was when I left to come here.”

Papyrus breathed a sigh of relief. He’d found out why Sans was even _in_ such as a position later, but for now he was safe. “Okay…Good.”

“Conall can you u-uh…check Papyrus’ output, I-I’ll deal with Gaster.”

_Conall? That was the human’s name? Well, nice to put a name to a face!_

“Sure,” Conall reappeared in front of Papyrus and hovered a small intermittently beeping device above his sternum. The young skeleton watched it curiously, never seeing such a strange device before in his life. “It’s one hundred and twenty over four hundred.”

He heard Alphys sigh from a distance. “S-so, not great but not terrible either…” she was by his father’s side, a myriad of instruments spread out across the floor. “Between the three of them we’re going to run out of magic, haha…”

Conall snorted, before leaving Papyrus to accompany Alphys. “How is he?”

“I-I can’t wake him up. But his magic levels are above the critical point, s-so I don’t know why he isn’t awake…”

The human’s hands clasped the sides of the skeleton’s face, speaking firmly to the unresponsive man, _“Hey, Wingding? Can you hear me?”_

There was of course no answer; and if he really were conscious there would be no way he would have allowed such close contact.

_Maybe I can heal him._

Once again slipping off the bed and shuffling over, Papyrus ignored the apprehensive looks of the two onlookers around him.

_I can do something right._

“I want to try something,” he began, kneeling to the ground next to his father and summoning his soul, “Please, don’t try to stop me.”

_I know you will just think I’m being stupid, but I can do this…_

Alphys expressionlessly stared at him, dumbfounded. “Papyrus, what are you…”

A whisp of green magic left his hand, gliding through the air and wrapping itself around the floating white soul. Alphys’ expression shifted, opening her mouth to protest, but the human beside her gently nudged her side.

“I think, if I can just…” the aforementioned soul lightened from its dimming state, absorbing the green magic like a desert’s lone wonderer starved of water.

_That’s a weird feeling this is giving me…_

_If I didn’t know any better it’s almost like I feel what he—_

**_GASP._ **

_Oh no._

“Oh!” Alphys and Cornell simultaneously shouted as the then immobile monster suddenly sprang to life, eye sockets flying open and attempting to sit up against the strong arms that disallowed it. Pale, large eyes were unseeing, confused, and it became swiftly evident he wasn’t all that lucid.

Then he stiffened.

_“What is this?”_

Alphys paled, “Dr Gaster, y-you’re in the lab and you’re ok. You're safe.” The shakiness of her voice wasn't helping her statement to sound particularly true but judging by his incredulous stare it probably wouldn't matter _what_ she said.

While three pairs of hands held him down, the disorientated older skeleton defied it.

“ _GET OFF ME!”_ he struggled with a scream, a guttural roar leaving his throat that didn’t sound at all natural.

The sound of a blaster slowly powering up behind them made everyone freeze.

Papyrus, Alphys and Conall stared at each other for a few seconds before leaping out the way.

_What’s the matter with him…?_

Almost immediately after the hit, the blaster fizzled away into nothing. Locking his eyes onto Gaster, Papyrus watched as his dad’s eyelights shrunk into slits at the realisation his magic wasn’t working.

How sad that he couldn’t vaporize everyone in the room.

Carefully, Papyrus crept closer towards the bewildered monster on the floor, meeting his gaze before he could get within arm’s reach.

“Don’t come any closer,” the words were slurred and lisping, blinking sluggishly as if he couldn’t make out who Papyrus was. It became clear from his vain efforts to defend himself with unwilling magic that he had no idea what was going on.

“Gaster, it’s okay,” Papyrus whispered with as much calmness as he could bring across, “It’s me, Papyrus.”

It took a moment, but recognition dawned on the older man’s face, his brow furrowing as he tried to piece two and two together.

“Papyrus?” he groused, lowering his arms from attack formation, “It worked?”

Papyrus blinked.

_What worked?_

_…Oh. The magic._

“Yes,” he lied; discussing the flower right now probably wasn’t a good idea, “Now we are both safe, thanks to you.”

“And we are really r-running out of magic, haha,” Alphys piped up from behind him, standing rather far away from them, understandably.

The two skeletons shared meaningful eye contact before the scientist’s defence dropped. His shoulders fell, a shaky hand moving towards his head, likely nursing a headache of sorts.

“Are you ok now?”

Gaster’s eyes seemed to search Papyrus’ own for a hint of malevolence before they returned to their normal size. “I believe so.”

Everyone shared a sigh of relief. That could have been _a lot_ worse…

**_..._ **

Stepping into the home he had become so familiar with gave Sans a sense of deep warmth and nostalgia, like a mother’s warm hug after a hard day of school.

Closing the door behind him, the shadow of a child crept across the living room floor, soon exposing the human he hadn’t seen in such a long time.

Frisk.

She froze, watching him for a moment as if doing a double take, before a smile edged upon her lips.

“Sans?” she whispered, unhurriedly walking towards him.

“yeah, hey kid.” Sans caught her in a bear hug, heavily sighing. Both from nostalgia and worry gnawing away at his soul. His father and Papyrus probably wouldn’t be home for a while. How much did the kid know?

“Are you better now?” Frisk mumbled into his coat, a small hand grasping his blood-stained hoodie.

“yeah. don’t worry about me. have you been ok?”

He could practically feel the kid’s tentative smile over his shoulder as she hummed in agreement.

“Sans?”

“mhm?”

“Where’s Papyrus? He’s been gone for ages.”

_ya had to ask._

“my pops is with him. try not to think too much on it.”

“Is he ill like you were?”

Well, he really didn’t want to delve into a twenty-minute-long conversation about how his brother nearly died, so he decided to disregard that can of worms. “nah. don’t really wanna think about it.”

Slouching on the sofa (that was surprisingly clean considering Papyrus’ absence), Sans flicked on a random channel and began to unwind from his recent ordeal. If that was even possible.

Before long, the kid flopped down next to him, curling onto his lap and vacantly staring at the TV.

“Why aren’t you with Papyrus?”

_… seriously, kid?_

“look, i don’t want to think about it. can’t we just watch some good old fashioned tv like normal people?” There was a lovely crime show on right now and it was probably ten times more interesting than his sad story about near-death experiences.

Regardless, he heard the kid huff from underneath him, clearly not liking the whole _forget about it and move on_ idea.

“But you’re always with him. Why not now?”

Something in his chest twinged. Whether it was anger or sadness, he did not know. “kid, do you have family? y’know, ‘sides from us.”

Frisk hummed, fidgeting around for a second before settling. “Maybe.”

He snorted—was she always this vague? “right. and if you found out your sibling and your dad, the only family you have, both collapsed—would you be able to saunter on in there and do nothing? just watch?”

With that, the kid went rigid, growing slightly heavier on his lap. Well, that hit a spot somewhere. “that’s my current predicament,” he explained with a breathy explosion of words, “i…can’t be around that right now. i needed to get out. i love my bro and my pops but enough’s enough, y’know?”

He felt Frisk nod into his shirt. An arm wrapped around her, embracing the child sinking into his hoodie. “good. now can we leave it at that?”

Frisk’s voice became thick with guilt. “Uh-huh. Sorry.”

“s’alright. hey, where’s tori?”

“Umm…she went out to get more cooking supplies.”

“cooking supplies?”

“Uh-huh. She’s been baking a lot since you’ve been gone and now we’ve ran out of food.” despite the harrowing meaning behind the words, Frisk giggled a little bit.

_a weird coping mechanism, but i’ll take food over snail stories any day._

“cool. more food for us then.”

The corners of Frisk’s mouth quirked up in a distant smile, even with the concealed grief in her eyes.

“alright, c’mere,” he murmured, pulling the kid into another hug. Felt good to do so after all this time, there wasn’t much opportunity for contact during _dying_. Except of course your own freaking dad operating on y—

_Clank!_

A door opened, smacking against the wall. “I’m home!” the unmistakable sing-song voice of Toriel called, clearly up to her neck with shopping judging by the door being slammed open.

As expected, the motherly creature walked into the living room, surprise etched on her face as she took in the sight of the missing skeleton. “Oh, Sans! Hello, my friend! How have you been?”

“yeah great.” She probably didn’t care for the fact his voice was dripping with sarcasm, but quite frankly he couldn’t hold back the temptation—he was _shit_ and it would be stupid to think otherwise.

Toriel dropped the bags on the floor, giving an appreciative nod towards Frisk who had immediately slid to the floor to help. “So,” she tentatively sat beside him, adopting a gentle tone. “How about you tell me all about it?”

**_..._ **

“I promise I'm fine! I just woke up here and I’m ok! Please stop worrying, that’s my job!”

Gaster frowned at Papyrus’ persistence. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” the exasperated skeleton, held back an eye roll—sans was a bad influence.

“I did not hurt you?”

“Nope! You didn’t hurt anyone.”

“Hmm...” something in his voice shifted several semitones darker at that, a hint of disagreement.

“They even said I’m all good too. The flower saved me. Oh! I forgot about him; he needs you to...” Papyrus paused at the souring expression on Gaster's face. “What? What is it?”

Calculating eyes furrowed further. “The flower was telling the truth?”

Papyrus’ eyes sparkled at the mention of their mutual friend. “Yes! Have you met him?”

“I... disposed of him."

Papyrus’ stomach sank. “Oh."

_Why…?_

“I apologise if this upsets you, but he was a nasty creature. The...root of all these problems.”

... _Oh no._

“Was that a pun?”

His dad remained silent.

“I know that was a pun!! I’m so disappointed in you!!” he forced out a light-hearted joke despite the gnawing melancholy in his gut.

Gaster sneered, “If you say so.”

Attempting to lighten the situation over the unwanted pun didn’t do much to quell the unfamiliar fury rising in Papyrus’ soul, like the accumulation of water threatening to boil over his threshold.

Sure, the flower had tried to kill three people in the space of a month…but everyone could be redeemed, right? But Papyrus had finally managed to do something _right._ The poor creature was finally having seconds thoughts.

And Gaster killed him. Just like that. Because he had no self-control whatsoever.

Something on his features must have changed in unison with the internalised irate thought pattern as the skeleton opposite him stepped back, his tone weary as he talked.

“There was no other choice. You do understand this?”

Of course there was a choice! There was always another choice. He just took the easy way out.

“Why?” seemed to be the only thing he could verbalize. Why would he destroy the only person that Papyrus had managed to do right by?

“The creature is dangerous,” Gaster’s tone was slow and steady, as if explaining to a child about to explode, “It hurt many people and would not hesitate to do so again.”

“No it wouldn’t!” he cried, balling his fingers into fists, “It changed! I…I managed to change it and you destroyed it! You destroyed the _only_ thing that I could help…”

“You don’t know that. Did you really believe what it told you?”

“Yes!” Papyrus flapped a hand in frustration, “I had to give it a chance!”

“It is done now.” Gaster rigidly crossed his arms over his chest, “There is no point arguing about it.”

Papyrus peered sightlessly past his unrelenting father, determined in himself not to grow any angrier than this.

Both skeletons almost forgot that Alphys and Conall were in the room with them until the yellow reptilian spoke up.

“Umm…you two should be okay to go home now. Your vitals are all ok, just…don’t overdo it, alright?”

“Yeah you expend anymore magic and you might just mess yourselves up again.” Conall’s gaze met with Papyrus’, scrutinizing eyes glared tellingly into his own before the skeleton broke contact. “I mean it.”

“I know.” a hand went to his chest, looking for a scarf that wasn’t there, “I won’t use magic, I hardly ever do…”

The human raised an eyebrow, “I sense a _but_ coming…”

Hesitantly, Papyrus side-glanced towards his father, whose gaze had frozen to the floor. Gaster’s desire to avoid eye-contact only confirmed his suspicions. The other two in the room watched him also; and going by the hands that were behind his back curling into fists—he knew all eyes were on him.

“W-well, as I say,” Alphys nervously laughed, “As long as you don’t overdo it, you’ll be fine!”

Taking advantage of the newfound optimism in her voice, Papyrus joined in, “I believe so! We will go home now. Thank you for helping us!!”

As he made an advance towards the door, Papyrus listened out for footsteps that followed behind. Thankfully, long strides sounding awfully familiar to his father’s resounded in tandem with his own, meaning he hadn’t spaced out or was going to stand there sulking thoughtfully for hours on end.

When the large metal door welcomed both skeletons to the outside world, Papyrus couldn’t help but feel some deep-seated joy in anticipation of seeing the rest of his family again.

**_..._ **

He meant well. That’s what Sans and Papyrus had told both themselves and each other at the incessant nagging and overbearing behaviour from none other than their father. Sitting at home to recover and relax and watch tv was such an amazing fantasy at the time, emphasis on _fantasy._ Now they couldn't stand up to get a snack without Gaster insisting he check their magic levels _just in case_ the sheer action of _standing_ drained all their magic and left them in a fallen down state over the desire for milk.

“I... really don’t think this is necessary, Gaster, I just want to get something to eat.”

“paps, watch out, im about to grab the remote. this is risky. i might _faint_.”

“Sans! This is not a joke!” Gaster's voice was laced with bitterness but his eyes betrayed him. Regardless, he continued to remove Sans’ hoodie as to access his soul.

“sorry pops. but this is getting a little _over the top_ , don’t you think?”

Gaster frowned, but elected to ignore him.

Filled with devious intent, Sans grinned, turning to Papyrus. “hey, paps, im gettin' a little thirsty. couldja get me some ketchup?” he asked kindly, while an obtrusive device was hovered within the vicinity of his sternum.

“Of course, brother!” Papyrus made way to stand, oblivious to Sans’ intentions. Unbeknownst to the older brother’s comedic genius, Gaster’s eyes followed Papyrus sharply as he moved. Anxiety was etched across his face, spelling out the truth of the situation and making Sans' heart drop.

_damn. ok. not funny. he has a problem._

“actually, nevermind,” he rectified quickly, suddenly feeling bad about his antics. Something was definitely up with the man and it wouldn't be nice to make him worry.

“Are you thirsty?” came the unexpected reply from in front of him, concerned eyes studying him.

“no, no,” he admitted solemnly, “i was kidding. im fine.”

“Are you lying to me?”

“im not, i promise. just messing”

Gaster hummed to himself in thought before letting him go. Papyrus soon followed suit, seating himself next to Sans and watching the vigilant scientist closely.

The atmosphere was tense and vaguely hostile; the two brothers could do nothing to alleviate the understandably unsettled demeanour of their troubled father—it was difficult being aware that _they_ were the cause.

Yet they couldn’t live like this. They couldn’t spend the rest of their lives in this situation. Flowey probably screwed Gaster over the most out of the three of them and he was the least injured. So, for once, Sans acted.

“hey. uh, this might be kinda weird but… you ever thought we should move to the surface?”

The look on Papyrus’ face was priceless.

“Are you _actually_ Sans?!” he joked, resting an interested elbow on his knees. “What for?”

“well…” Sans glanced over to Gaster, who didn’t even seem to be paying attention. Papyrus appeared to understand. Getting out of the underground would probably help him of all people at the very least.

“I’ve been thinking about that too, you know!!” he offered to Sans’ surprise, “For a while actually, but I thought you grew too attached to this house.”

…That was _exactly_ why they hadn’t moved yet, but still…

“well…we can get a replica of this house on the surface. a lot of monsters got their own homes remade, even Undyne and Alphys.”

“I think…” Papyrus’ gaze dropped down to the figure staring absentmindedly to the ground, “We’ll need three rooms.”

_yeah._

_no way he’s living on his own again after this._

“hey, pops, what’d you think?”

Vacant dimmed eyes sluggishly glanced up at him, reacting so slow it was as if his computerized mind was grinding to a halt.

“If that is what you wish.”

_…huh._

“…no objections?”

“I do not see why not.”

His voice was empty compared to Papyrus’ own.

“Then it is settled!” the lively brother retorted, slapping the three of them into a bear hug, “We will move to the surface and join our friends!”

“yeah bro, sounds cool,” Sans grinned widely, then gestured his head towards the stairs. “why dont you head on up to bed and ill catch up in a sec.”

“Okay!!” the excited monster left the scene and clobbered up the stairs, leaving Sans and a half-dazed Gaster facing each other.

_now that paps is out of sight..._

“right, how much magic do you have?”

The swaying man was taken aback by the random remark.

“What?”

Sans snatched the device out of Gaster's hands and roughly shoved it into the man's sternum. He shrieked, eyes suddenly growing huge before landing on his son on horror.

Before the father could speak, Sans continued, “im not stupid. your eyelights are dimming and you’re zoning out.”

“I can assure you I am in no danger.”

“ill believe that when i...” the device enclosed in his fingers beeped, displaying the new readings. He was...fine?

_So what was up with his behaviour and darkened eyelights?_

“Are you quite finished?”

Sans blinked slowly, twice.

“yea. don't mind me.”

His old man harrumphed before gesturing to the stairs. “Why don’t you settle in Papyrus?”

The way he was pushing everyone away was a concern of its own, but if the scanner said he was fine then he must be.

“yeah. i'll do that and come back down.”

“Will you not sleep also?”

“was gonna ask you the same question.”

They watched each other wearily, until Sans heaved a sigh, making his way towards the stairs.

“be back in a sec.”

Grumbling to himself, Sans trudged up the stairs to the bedroom to say goodnight to Papyrus.

Why oh _why_ was his father so damn difficult?

Anyways, it was best to push that out of his mind while he dealt with his brother.

“hey bro,” Sans announced his arrival and shut the door behind him. “ready for another story?”

Papyrus was already tucked up in bed, “Oh yes!! What will it be this time??”

“hmm...” Sans analysed the shelf of books on the wall, running a finger over them until he found something suitable. Ah yes, the chronicles of chef bunny.

“the chef one. you like that one, yeah?” he asked, swiping it from the bookcase and dropping himself onto a crinkly red beanbag.

“Yes!! Perfect!”

“heh,” he flicked open a few pages, the paper flapping against his fingers as he began, “so there was a bunny and he wanted to...”

_C r a s h_

The sound of shattering plates followed by a loud _thump_ made both brothers jump out of their metaphorical skin.   
It came from below.

_the hell has he done now?_

“What was that?” Papyrus pulled the duvet up higher, and distantly Sans was angry with his father for not allowing them to relax for ten minutes.

“pops isn’t all that good at washing up,” Sans joked, flipping over the next page and doing his best to ignore his old man who claimed he needed no-one. “so anyway, bunny was looking for ingredients for a new cake...”

“Sans, please check on Gaster...”

 _Sigh._ He slammed the book shut.

“why? he's fine, i even checked.”

“I am worried about him...please?”

Frustration for his father grew exponentially larger every second.

Perhaps the idea of living in the same house wasn’t such a great idea after all.


	10. Chapter 10 - Problem?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster pushes himself over the edge, which causes issues with the rest of the family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last chapter for this. I tried to end it on a good note-- I really wanted to start writing another story in the series but didn't want to leave this work abandoned so I finished it. :)) Alsooo happy birthday undertale!! Was the concert awesome or what?!
> 
> Thanks for all your support over the weeks my friends, it really means more than you know, love from some girl on the internet <3

_“Sans, please check on Gaster...”_

_He slammed the book shut. “why? he's fine, i even checked.”_

_“I am worried about him...please?”_

_Frustration for his father grew exponentially larger every second._

_Perhaps the idea of living in the same house wasn’t such a great idea after all._

**...**

“fine, i'll check on him. only for you, bro.”

Papyrus offered an innocent yet sheepish smile, hiding even further under the covers as Sans left the room.

Back down those wooden stairs again, Sans called down, “hey G, you down here?”

A couple more steps down and he tried again, “pops? dad?”

With a frustrated huff— _god he just wanted to go to bed,_ he slugged into the kitchen and studied the room.

There, slumped up against the counter, breathing haggardly, lay his dad.

_shit._

“hey, hey, what happened?” he raced up to him, the dazed expression on his face familiar from their earlier conversation.

Shattered plates were left bestrewn across the floor; some of them must have hit him as various cuts were seeping dark purple.

Gaster didn’t reply, only slumping even further down a kitchen counter, so he tried again. “hey, talk to me, what’s happened?” Sans reached into the pockets of the tattered black coat, fumbling through in search of the device from earlier. It was difficult to ignore the strangled noises coming from the throat of the man in front of him, but it at least he was coming around now.

“Why...are you...not...asleep?”

Sans snorted. “i was coming back down anyway, remember?”

Gaster's eyes narrowed in thought, as if he had to process that sentence.

_damn, you’re really out of it, huh._

Eventually his fingers met a familiar shape, curling around its contents and yanking it out.

The device beeped rapidly as he held it to the man's sternum, furrowing his brow at the readings.

Once again, it claimed he was fine. _Well, that was a lie._

Considering the device now useless, Sans splay out a hand over his old man’s ribcage and summoned his soul. It was, unfortunately, rather similar to Papurus’ own. Meaning dimmed, cracked and drained.

Which could only mean one thing.

_he’s overusing his magic again? how?_

“you were supposed to take it easy,” Sans muttered, releasing the orb back into its home, unsure of how to fix this particular problem. It was a well-known fact all three of them were recovering from magic deficits.

“I have...not...been...using...my magic...” Gaster gasped through strangled breaths, “Too...low...”

_then what the hell is this?_

_you can’t drain magic that much from doing nothing except the sheer effort of stressing over it._

Unless...

_oh._

His worrying over Sans and Papyrus was _actually_ draining magic.

Sans blinked, dumbfounded.

How cruel, and very ironic.

“you need to stop this,” he deplored, pulling a stray glass shard out of the man’s neck. “you’re gonna end up killing yourself.”

Gaster chuckled despite himself, whether it was from exhaustion or shock no-one could be quite sure.

“If I wasn’t…around…you’d be…dead already…”

Sans snorted. Well, that much was true. He’d saved both himself and his brother on multiple occasions. Flowey would probably be running around wreaking havoc right now.

Actually…

“what happened to Flowey?”

Recognition dawned upon Gaster’s tired face, before his features quickly became empty again. “…Gone.”

“gone?”

“Yes.”

… _so he killed him then._

Which must have meant he obviously came into contact with him at some point. Immediately after Papyrus was saved…so…if he was in Pap’s soul…and _Gaster_ was now currently occupying the floor with a magic problem…

“let me see your soul,” Sans immediately ran a hand over his old man’s ribcage again, attempting to resummon the white orb that had been through hell and back already and did _not_ need this. Perhaps he missed something from his check earlier, like the flower embedding itself into his being.

But it never came.

It refused.

“ _dad,”_ Sans emphasized, staring him dead in the eye, “show me.”

“No.” Gaster’s eyes locked onto him like magnets, an unsettling hint of defiance shadowed his face.

Sans dipped into his magic reserves and tugged at the energy surrounding the caged soul of interest.

Despite his efforts, no matter how hard he tried, no progress was being made. He had _just_ successfully summoned it earlier, damn it! Was he too alert now to let it happen again, or what? Focusing intensely on the orb, he _felt_ its presence, he _felt_ his own soul connect with his dad’s, but it _refused_ to leave his chest.

He pulled harder on the magic, because _god damn if he was being this defiant then there was definitely something wrong with it._ So much so that it was beginning to anger him.

“ _Gaster!”_ he yelled through gritted teeth, pulling as hard as he could on the white orb. It felt about the same intensity as summoning four blasters. “ _show it to me damn you!”_

Through a haze of boiling anger, he set his gaze upon Gaster’s face and immediately felt as if he had just been knifed in the chest.

_holy hell are those tears in his eyes?_

“alright! alright i’ll stop!”

He let go, and immediately the man sagged to the floor and began sawing in breaths as if having just resurfaced from being trapped underwater.

_jeez…_

Sans knelt over him, laying a tentative hand on his shoulder, “i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” he muttered, feeling exceedingly disappointed in himself, “i’m an idiot, i shouldn’t have done that.”

The other man released some staggered shaky breaths, his jaded eyes black pools of fear, clearly having been in no condition to fight against Sans’ own magic.

_i’m a moron._

_my magic regenerates faster_ than _his. probably at full capacity._

_and he’s running on empty._

_i could have killed him…_

_jesus christ…_

_what the hell is wrong with me…_

_what the hell…_

“Brother??”

Sans blinked some angry tears out of his sockets and spun around to face his brother. “heya.” His voice wavered.

“Are you two alright?” Papyrus slowly stepped down the stairs, immediately running up to them both when he reached the ground. “Why are you crying?” then he paused, glancing at Gaster who had the most cynical expression on his face having been caught being displaying emotion by _Papyrus_ of all people. “Why are you…?”

“it’s alright now. it’s my fault. but it’s fine.”

“But what happened? I don’t understand…there’s glass everywhere!! Is someone hurt?” he knelt beside them, his tall build towering over Sans despite the both of them kneeling. A flurry of green magic left his hands, and carefully Papyrus touched upon the bleeding wounds.

The cracks repaired themselves slowly but surely, though judging by the mortified expression upon Gaster’s face he wasn’t on board with his impromptu plan.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Papyrus’ voice radiated calmness, and for that Sans was eternally grateful. “I have more than enough magic, and so does Sans. But quite clearly you don’t!!”

A voice of reason settled them both down—expected least of all from Papyrus, but perhaps they needed to stop assuming he was naïve.

Finally, Gaster spoke up from his mute state, strenuously fixated on Papyrus’ face, “…Thank you.”

Well, that was unexpected. He’ll probably regret that display of emotional warmth later. Still, Sans stopped himself from snorting and smiled instead.

At that moment, the remnants of eyelights went out completely, his figure falling slack.

_shit._

_this is my fault._

_this is my fault._

_this is my fault._

His brother, however, calmly retrieved the now free-for-all soul from Gaster’s chest and studied it. There was a large crack perforating through it, which had grown from earlier no thanks to Sans’ hissy fit.

Ultimately his eyes glazed back over his dad’s form, panic instantly rising again.

“It’s alright,” Papyrus spoke up, knowing Sans and his anticipated reactions all too well, releasing the soul back into the owner’s possession. “It’s just exhaustion, I think.”

A long shaky exhale slipped from Sans’ lips, glad to _hell_ his old man wasn’t in danger.

“thanks papy,” Sans whispered mutely.

Papyrus’ smiled understandably, reaching in for a hug and squeezing his brother snugly. “It’s okay, Sans. What actually happened?”

“heh,” Sans chuckled darkly, shifting his weight as he relaxed, “well…”

**...**

Getting some magic supplements from Alphys had been a breeze and was surprisingly easy. Or, she didn’t at least drop everything and run over to help. In fact, she seemed quite happy they asked and was apparently considering doing this in the first place.

Well, obviously she should have considering his condition, but it was no matter now. The three of them should stay stable until their magic restores...even if the brothers didn’t need it. Sans had a sneaky suspicion Gaster wouldn’t take them if his sons weren’t on them either.

Regardless, they were now set on the right track to recovery, all they needed was time to process everything.

And nothing was better at doing that than being forced to eat spaghetti pie.

Yes, _spaghetti pie._

Toriel and Papyrus collaborated on a recipe together to create what was likely to be an abomination and waste of ingredients.

_still funny though._

“Do you think the human would want a big piece?” Papyrus was asking while handling some oven mitts, “I heard they like cake! Especially yours Miss Toriel.”

Toriel chuckled, “ _That_ she does, my friend. Yes, I suppose we should give her the biggest piece.”

Frisk on the other hand had been hiding in her bedroom since the skelebros came home. Even with the commotion in the kitchen she had yet to make her presence known.

Toriel gave a gentle knock to her door, a plate of questionable cake in hand. “Frisk, dear, I have some food for you.”

A short moment later the door creaked open, a little bewildered head popping out. “Hi Mama!” the child's soft brown eyes were as innocent as the day she met her.

Handing Frisk the plate, she smiled apologetically, “It's one of Papyrus’ concoctions. But not to worry, I made sure he fully cooked it through.”

It would probably taste weird if not horrific, but she took it gratefully. “How's the others?”

“You mean the skele family?” she sighed, the events of the past day were certainly something, “They are working things out, let’s say.”

Frisk frowned, “Are they okay?”

“Yes...yes, they are now, I believe,” then she added for good measure, “You are more than welcome to greet them.”

To her surprise, the child waddled out the room as if her shyness were a mere misinterpretation, making straight for the stairs.

_That was one way to avoid eating spaghetti cake._

**...**

Frisk tapped the wooden door, testing to see if it would open. She winced when it happily squeaked open, revealing her presence to everyone who happened to be inside. In this case it was, as Toriel had said, the family of skeles.

“Um…hello…?”

All three of them turned around at the sound of her voice.

“heya kiddo,” Sans looked pretty distraught. Not to mention Gaster looked as if he wasn’t even cognizant and Papyrus the only one still sane.

Isn’t that how it always was?

She bit her lip, “I just…wanted to see if you guys were alright.”

Papyrus smiled, “Of course we are, human! Come on in, there’s plenty of room in the circle for you! Well…it’s more a triangle really but…now it’s a square…?”

Frisk giggled, tiptoeing into the room and kneeling on the floor beside Sans and Papyrus. Gaster was eying her watchfully as if he’d never seen her before. Acting really weird…

“We’re just having a chat but it’s okay now,” Papyrus slapped two arms around Frisk and Gaster’s shoulder, who didn’t even seem to react at all.

“Uhh…is he alright?”

Damned if she even knew the man properly at all, but something was _definitely_ not right with him. The only acknowledgement of her presence he gave was the icy glare sent her way.

“we’ve had a rough couple of days,” Sans interjected, catching her eye, “he’s been hit harder than he likes to admit.”

_If he can even talk at all…?_

“Okay,” she murmured instead, slouching against the older brother and fiddling with her sleeve, “What’s happening now?”

“well, we’re just gonna have to wait it out. but we plan to move to the surface, which means you and tori will probably come with as well.”

_Move…? What for…?_

“it’s safer up there,” he continued, as if sensing her question, “we’re around the others and all that.”

“You were an accomplice of that vile flower.”

Everyone in the room froze solid. Apprehensive eyed glanced between each other before gawking at Gaster. The man was staring at the poor child with a seething expression.

Frisk was taken aback. “What...?”

“I cured you first and you gave it to the rest of us because you did not bother to tell us. This is your doing.”

Sans’ arm slipped around Frisk protectively, “now wait a minute, G--"

“We would not be in this situation if they did not lie.”

“c'mon, it ain’t their fault.”

“I didn’t mean to... I was trying to protect you guys...”

“From what, exactly?”

“gaster, stop it, come on.”

“From Flowey... I thought... maybe... if you didn’t know... i’d be sparing you...”

“And how well did that work out for you?” his monotonous voice was ominously hostile.

“I'm sorry...” she genuinely was but didn’t know how to express it under his hard gaze. “I'm... going back to sleep now...”

Two voices shouted in unison as she got to her feet, “Wait!”

The brothers didn’t know how to deal with this situation but leaving wasn't an option right now. Can't they just talk? Regardless, she stomped over to the door.

Sans sighed at the incredulous look his father wore. “seriously?”

To everyone's shock, a blue slithering branch shot out from under shaky hands and whipped around the human child, trapping it with an alarmed squeak. She flailed as the brothers shouted at him.

_“Gaster—!”_

“what the hell are you playing at!? put her down!”

“I want answers.”

“not like this you sure as hell aren't.” Soul hammering away in his chest, Sans scowled at the obviously insane man, waving a hand in his face, “hey. hey! put her down. you don’t need to do this.”

Frisk struggled, arms trapped by her sides and motionless, another blue object wrapped around her throat. She let out a low whine and gazed over at Sans pleadingly. The small skeleton seemed to notice, giving her a raised eyebrow that said _im trying!_

Two pairs of eyes bore into Gaster, a half petrified half defensive mess that seemed to be traumatised by _something._ The brothers refused to look away, as if staring at him long enough would bring answers they frantically sought to say something that will stop this absurd behaviour.

“This isn’t very nice of you.” Papyrus was the next to try speaking sense into him, but the man’s unresponsive demeanour appeared ignorant of their current surroundings. “We would like to be a happy family. Me, you and Sans. Do you think we would be okay if you hurt our friend?”

Gaster’s forehead furrowed into an agonized frown, the hollow expression upon the man’s face faltering, before stumbling out a reply, “What if it happens again?”

Papyrus’ eyes twinkled with sincere optimism, trying ever so hard to bring his father down from whatever he was experiencing, “What if it _doesn’t?_ ”

“I…” raised wobbly arms hesitated, before dropping unceremoniously to his sides. At once, the luminous blue faded into nothingness, the human plummeting to the floor with a yelp.

Without hesitation, Sans scrambled to Frisk’s side, giving her a once-over and relaxing when she didn’t seem harmed. “you’re ok,” he whispered as she crawled onto his lap, “i’m sorry that happened. something isn’t right with him.”

Despite everything, the kid whispered, “It’s okay.”

“no, it’s not,” Sans grumbled in his father's general direction, who seemed none the wiser, “this can’t become a pattern. this isn’t your fault.”

“...It isn’t his fault, either,” Frisk pulled at the little brother's jumper, resting her head on his shoulder. “But we can get through this.”

“Yeah!” Papyrus piped up from opposite them, clearly attracted to positivity like magnets, “Let's give it some time and I’m sure it’ll be okay!”

There was a low chuckle coming from the blue hoodie, the child only hearing it from her close proximity.

“if ya say so, paps.”

_I sure as hell hope so._

**...**

It was twilight by the time she had garnered to courage to approach his room, the simple image of the door in front of her was enough to make her heart thud in anticipation.

 _What if he gets angry with me?_ Frisk wondered, in spite of the rational side of her mind willing her to just walk in and get on with it.

It was just a _door!_

Through dogged determination, she forced one foot in front of the other and concentrated on elbowing the door open.

When wood smacked against the wall, she glowered like a deer in headlights at the man eying her, an eyebrow cocked at the surprise visit. She hadn’t noticed before, but dark pouches settled beneath his lifeless eyes.

“...Hi.” She sputtered, embarrassment creeping into her voice.

“...Hello.”

“...How...are you?”

“Better.”

She chuckled nervously, “That's...good, haha...”

The surprise entrenched on his face morphed into a deep frown. “Is something wrong?”

Oh. She probably made him worry about his kids again.

“No! No, aha,” small fingers curled into fists, “I just want to make sure you were okay. You know, after earlier...”

_Damn it, Frisk! Did you really have to add that last part on there?!_

To her relief, he didn’t seem upset. “As I said, I am better. It should be me asking you-- I attacked you, after all.” His words were so monotonously casual it was as if what had happened earlier was the norm.

“I'm ok, honest. You didn’t really hurt me, but it was sorta scary.” She shrank in on herself at the raw memory, “I didn’t know you could do that...”

“I apologise.” There was a heavy sigh. “I will endeavour to avoid this in the future.”

_That would be wonderful._

Taking a step back as to show she was leaving; she was unexpectedly stopped.

“Sit down.”

Frisk blinked.

“What?”

He was _inviting_ her in?

“Sit down,” he repeated, gesturing at the vacant office chair.

Apprehensive being near the creature that had tried to kill her hours before, she slowly shuffled back in. “Why?”

“Because you have a tendency to lie.”

_Oh._

_This wasn’t about being friendly. This was about that stupid flower again._

Reluctantly, Frisk sat down, awaiting the hailstorm of accusations with the possibility of being strangled by magic again.

But to her surprise, his only move was to silently lift her chin with a curious lone finger, studying her neck above his glasses for whatever reason.

“...What are you doing?”

He met her gaze and retracted the bony phalange from her throat, his face contorted with a hell of a lot of worry for someone that just tried to kill her. “Are you sure I did not harm you?”

Frisk blew out a long breath. Okay, he's just paranoid he’s hurt someone.

“I told you, I'm fine. You didn’t hurt me. It was just scary.”

“Truthfully, I don't know how much power I attempted to use. I wouldn't know how badly I--"

_Okay. Enough._

“Listen to me, you didn’t hurt me. Evidently you didn’t have enough power to do anything even if you wanted to.”

Disbelief wore into his tired face, a dark shadow passing over his eyes. He genuinely believed he injured someone; Sans was right, his father definitely had a problem.

“Thank you for checking on me,” she offered a smile of gratitude, “And it’s okay. Everything will be ok now. We'll all help you.”

Gaster remained eerily silent, the inner workings of his complex mind could only be speculated. More than likely he was mentally monologuing about how he doesn’t need anyone's help.

But there was nothing he could do about that.

They watched each other for a few moments, as if the monster were _itching_ to say something but couldn't find it in him to do so. Eventually, he reached out, pointing towards her chest.

“May I?”

Frisk froze but timidly nodded. Now was as good a chance as any to re-establish the trust that had been lost. Two fingers touched the hem of her shirt, until an orb of red manifested into the air.

Well...now he currently, quite literally, held her life in his hands. One simple move and he could drain her soul to death. There was a lot of trust hanging between them.

“It's not infected,” he declared with relief— _was he really worrying about that this whole time?_ It looked exactly the same as the day he fixed it—back in the days where Flowey had made himself at home inside it...maybe that’s why Gaster wanted to check.

Ultimately he released her soul again, sending it back into her being.

“Satisfied?” she chortled sardonically, feeling infinitely better with her soul safely tucked away.

Gaster returned the smarmy expression, “Yes, thank you.”

Hopefully, that would help satisfy his curiosity (or fear) when it came to whether or not Frisk was still infected by Flowey… despite the fact Gaster got rid of it himself. He has a problem—that was already established.

A waft of something that smelled pleasantly similar to maple sugar crossed Frisk’s senses, and evidently Gaster’s too considering his eyelights brightened with interest.

“I think they’re cooking again,” Frisk bounced on the spot excitedly, “I’ll bring you something if you want?”

The scientist seemed to like the sound of that. “That would be helpful, thank you,” he added under a quiet breath, “I don’t think I have eaten for a long while.”

“Oh…” Toriel would hate to hear that—would probably try to overfeed him. “I’ll see if I can get you a big bit!” and with that, she skipped out the room, her mood miles better than it was before.

**...**

In the end, Frisk had managed to convince Gaster to eat in the living room with the rest of the family. If Sans and Papyrus had to live under the same roof with him on the surface, they might as well put it into practice.

Aforementioned child was curled up on the couch, stuffed from the butterscotch cinnamon pie they had earlier to celebrate the occasion of…

…What was the occasion? Not being offed by Gaster? Well in any case, it was a nice pie.

“I hope we can get along as a nice family,” Toriel was saying, all on her lonesome in an armchair, “We have many events we can celebrate together, like birthdays, easter, christmas...”

“sounds nice,” Sans leaned against Papyrus on the couch, half-lidded and dozy, “can't wait.”

“Is that sarcasm, brother!?” Papyrus bellowed from beside him, “It's a wonderful idea I'll have you know!”

“yea, yea. never said it wasn't.”

Living on the surface was going to be one hell of an experience.


End file.
